Love Potion Number Nine
by Alexandra Lyman
Summary: After defeating the Wicked Witch and returning to the Enchanted Forest, a prince arrives with the goal of winning Emma's hand in marriage. He attempts to snare her with a love potion, but Hook intervenes and winds up activating the potion himself, causing Emma to fall in love with him. The effect is temporary, but it's going to be a hell of a ride until it wears off. Captain Swan.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I am following canon up to Hook showing up at Emma's door in Going Home, so this story has no Walsh, Snow's not pregnant, and Neal didn't try to bring back Rumple with the consequences that happened on the show. Also, I'm fairly new to the OUAT fandom so if I make any canon errors in this I do apologize, I'm still getting caught up on all the eps. **

**This will go M eventually but it will take a few chapter to get there. **

**And I don't own any of these characters**

** Chapter One: Out of the Woodwork**

His Royal Highness Francis Felipe Fergus Frederich Fenton Fraser Fabian Flavio Ferdinand

Crown Prince of the Kingdom of the Everlasting Mountain.

Benevolent Duke of the Isles in the North.

Beloved Lord of the Lower Plains.

Tall. Cultured. Handsome. Wealthy.

Dressed head to toe in rich purple velvet with a fine fur cloak, a proud set to his shoulders, he looked every inch the fine young noble, blue blood in his veins and the world at his feet.

Hook wasn't impressed.

By the look on her face as the Prince swept a low bow in front of her, hat in his hand, neither was Emma. The short, fat manservant at the Prince's side was calling out his ridiculously long name and list of titles in a high-pitched nasal whine, and it was all Hook could do to keep from scoffing out loud. The Wicked Witch was finally defeated, there was peace in the Enchanted Forest once more as Snow and David retook their rightful places on the throne, and word had clearly spread to the neighbouring kingdoms of their return.

And of their beautiful and unmarried daughter, heiress to that throne.

As the Prince launched into an obviously rehearsed speech calling for an alliance between his kingdom and theirs, speaking flowery words of friendship and flattery, Hook saw his eyes on Emma the whole time, directing his words to her even though he was addressing her parents. As he droned on and on, Snow and David's faces glazed over, and Regina was openly rolling her eyes. Emma kept a polite smile fixed on her face, nodding along with his words, but when Francis grasped her hand and kissed it, proclaiming her to be the "Most gentle-hearted beacon of sweetness in the land," the smile faded and she looked like she had just swallowed a mouthful of glass.

"Of for the love of," Regina muttered, stomping away in disgust, and Hook bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, thanks," Emma said, yanking her hand back. She looked over the Prince's shoulder and met Hook's gaze. He raised his eyebrows at her and mouthed, "Beacon of sweetness."

Emma scowled, a beacon of annoyance, folding her arms across her chest. Prince Francis finally turned to her parents, who wore twin expressions of amusement as they thanked him for his kind words and invited him to stay in the castle and join in their victory celebrations. He accepted with ten times as many words as were necessary, looking at Emma again. She had inched away from him, arms still folded.

The fat manservant bustled forward, calling out instructions to the other members of the Prince's retinue. Snow and David linked arms and headed back towards the main entrance, Emma followed behind, pointedly ignoring the arm Francis had held out to her.

Hook watched him tilt his head at Emma's retreating form, clearly appraising her. The manservant moved beside him, and the Prince grabbed his arm, "She is beautiful. She's the one, my future bride!"

He had turned to speak into his servant's ear, and caught sight of Hook standing behind him. Hook smirked at him, raising his hook and tapping it against his lips. Francis flushed, clearly he hadn't noticed that Hook had been standing close enough to overhear. He clapped his feather-tipped hat back onto his head and turned on his heel, raising himself up to his full height as he stalked with forced dignity after Emma and her parents.

Hook supposed he should have expected this. She would be the first to turn up her nose at the idea, but Emma's hand was now a prize to be won, a treasure that many princes and lords would be attempting to claim. They would come in droves now, with their fine clothes and pretty words, drawn by the tales of her beauty, eyeing her crown.

But he was a pirate, and when it came to treasure, and a treasure as precious as the heart of the fair Swan, he had spied it's worth long ago when it had been hidden away from everyone else's blind eyes and laid his own claim. He had offered to relinquish it once and only once, and he had no plans of doing so ever again.

Hook lazily ambled towards the castle. Prince Fancypants didn't stand a chance. But watching him fall flat on his face was going to be fine entertainment.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Party Crasher

Hook looked at himself in the mirror, turning one way and then the other as he considered his appearance.

A servant had brought the clothes to his room that morning, a gift from Snow and David. More likely Snow's doing, then David's, Hook suspected.

It was a full outfit for a royal ball. White silk shirt, embroidered jacket with jet buttons and a matching waistcoat, and fawn coloured breeches. He had run his fingers over the material, it was the finest he had ever felt, and he'd plundered many bolts of good cloth in his pirating career. Snow had clearly spared no expense on him.

It was a pity that part of it was going to waste.

He had left the breeches and jacket discarded on the bed, tucking the new shirt into his own leather pants and slipping the waistcoat over it. Dove grey, with black embroidery, it fit him perfectly. He had left the shirt open at his throat, tossing aside the lace jabot that was meant to hold it closed without a second glance.

The result was quite striking, he thought, looking at his reflection.

He wondered if Emma would like it.

He had seen little of her over the past three days. Every time she had left her room Prince Flatterer was buzzing around her like a mosquito, paying her more of his ridiculous compliments. She grew increasingly irritated with him, but the stupid git either didn't notice, or thought he only had to try harder to win her over. Hook was amazed that she had managed to remain mostly civil with the man, although her patience had clearly grown paper-thin. She had retreated back to her chamber immediately after breakfast that morning, claiming a headache. Francis had tried to escort her, but Emma was too fast for him, and Hook had aided her escape by leaning back in his chair and preventing Prince Fop from getting around the table in time to stop her slipping out the door.

He gave a cheery, "Sorry mate," to the Prince's glare, and heard David's muttered, "One more day," from across the table. Clearly Hook wasn't the only one anticipating Francis's planned departure. The fact that he was scheduled to leave the following morning was the only thing that had stopped Hook from actually threatening the man's life, although he made sure to keep his hook in plain view whenever Francis looked at him. Prince Fearful would back up and get tongue-tied at the sight of it and Emma would shoot him a grateful smile as he drove the idiot off.

Francis sulked the rest of the day, which Hook enjoyed immensely. He watched from a window as the Prince stalked up and down in the garden, his fat manservant at his heels, as they held what looked like a furious conversation. Hook was too far away to hear what they were saying, but he could tell the manservant was trying to placate him. Which clearly wasn't going well, Hook thought, as Francis kicked a tree and then fell over, clutching his foot. The servant rushed to help him, and Hook fell away from the window, chuckling.

The castle was a hive of activity, servants trundling to and fro as they prepared for the victory ball, the celebration of another foe vanquished. As he made his way back to his room to get ready for the party, he could hear more than one voice singing that song from Emma's land, with it's refrain of "which old witch? the wicked witch!"

Hook grimaced, remembering the green bitch and the desperate battle to destroy her and restore the friends and allies who had been turned into her simian lackeys.

Chief amongst them, Baelfire.

_It was the straw that could have broken her, after all she had been through already, but as always, Swan was stronger than her enemies ever dreamed. They defeated the Witch, and got them all back, and Hook had been convinced that whatever faint hope he had of Emma choosing him over the father of her child was finally dead._

_She had spent hours in Bae's hospital room, he had been injured quite badly when he transformed from flying monkey back to human, falling out of the sky and landing with a thud at Emma's feet. Hook had been the first to reach them, his head had turned instantly at Emma's scream and his feet moved of their own accord, racing to her side. She was on her knees, head pressed against Bae's chest, and Hook had fallen to the ground on his other side, choking back his own fear for the man who had once been his friend._

_Emma lifted her head and met Hook's eyes, "He's alive!"_

_He had kept his promise, aside from his attempts to make her remember, he hadn't pursued her. Well, not pursued her hard, at least. For Henry's sake, and for his own guilt in tearing Bae's family apart once already. He could never regret falling in love with Milah, but he could regret the pain their careless selfishness had wrought._

_The time Emma spent at Bae's bedside, Hook spent wedged into an uncomfortable chair in the hospital hallway outside the room, feeling Milah's hand clasping his own absent one. If he was to lose his heart a second time, at least it would be for her son._

_When the door opened and Emma came out, looking at him with no sign of surprise on her face that he was still there, he forced a smile and a casual tone._

_"The happy couple, reunited once more. Be sure to invite me to the wedding, love."_

_She glared at him._

_"I'm not seventeen anymore. Sometimes I wish I could be, but I can't. I don't think anyone really gets it. They all have this idea in their heads, that we can just pick up where we left off, that if I still have feelings for him and can forgive him for leaving, then we're just automatically going to be together again."_

_She looked away, crossing her arms, "I come back and then I get my happy ending, right? It's what they all expect. But this isn't a bedtime story, this is real life, my life. I may not have much control over it, but I do get to decide this!"_

_He stood up slowly, muscles stiff and protesting from hours in a chair that had clearly been designed for dwarves. He moved towards her, stopping when he was close enough that she had to tilt her head back slightly to look him in the eye._

_"Yes," he said, "It's your choice. Yours and yours alone."_

_The words he couldn't, wouldn't say were roaring in his ears, "Choose me!"_

_Emma raised her hand to his cheek in that hospital hallway, green eyes wide. For one breathless moment, he thought she might kiss him, but she had only smiled._

_"Thank you," she said, "For everything."_

_He covered the hand she had on his cheek with his own, moving it to his lips and lightly brushing a kiss across her knuckles. She swiped her fingers against his chin and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up._

_What happened between Emma and Bae in that room, whatever conversation they'd had, what memories they'd shared, what questions had been asked and answered, Hook didn't think he'd ever know. But it was clear afterwards, that there was peace and acceptance between them but no reconciliation._

_Emma hadn't chosen Bae._

Hook rubbed his hand over his jaw, feeling his perpetual five o'clock shadow rough against his palm. The servants had brought him a basin of hot water and a razor. He had planned to shave before getting dressed, but he remembered the feel of Emma's hand on his face and changed his mind.

The stubble didn't exactly match the elegant clothes, but then neither did the metal hook. He raised it in front of his face and nodded at his reflection in the mirror.

Dressed half like a prince, but still half pirate.

He may have changed, but not that much.

He was staying in a room in the guest wing, only two doors down from where Prince Foolish had been housed. Hook breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped out and saw the Prince's door was shut and there was no sign of the idiot in the hall.

He'd never had a high opinion of royalty, but Francis embodied all the worst stereotypes. He was an empty headed ninny, obsessed with his appearance, and for all his boasting to all and sundry about his heroic exploits, it hadn't escaped Hook's notice that he'd only shown up after the Witch was defeated.

The way he spoke to Emma made it clear that he only saw her beauty and had no interest in who she actually was. Swan was many things, but she was not a "delicate flower" as Francis kept insisting. He was polite to the people he thought mattered - Emma, her parents, Henry, and disdainful of the rest, including Hook.

The Prince had made a sneering comment, even as he blanched at the sight of the hook, wondering how David could possibly feel that his wife and daughter were safe in the company of such a notorious villain, and that was the one time Swan had lost her temper with him, the cold fury in her eyes and voice making Francis take a step back in alarm.

"You. Don't. Know. Him," she said, each word clipped with her anger, "Never, ever, say anything like that again!"

She didn't give the prince a chance to respond, taking Hook by the arm and stalking off with him in tow.

"The nerve of him!" Emma spat, "I hope he falls into the moat."

"This castle doesn't have a moat, love," Hook pointed out, a thrill running through him at how she had immediately leapt to his defense.

"Well, we should dig one and push him into it."

Hook was smiling at the memory and not paying attention to his surroundings. The young servant girl appeared suddenly to his right and almost collided into him.

"Whoa, sorry lass," Hook said, using his hand and his hook to steady her so she wouldn't fall over. The girl gave a squeak of alarm, staring at the metal appendage, and took off down the hall.

He rolled his eyes, and caught a glimpse into the room the girl had just come out of. Francis's fat manservant stood there sneering at him.

The door slammed shut, and Hook made a rude gesture at it with his fingers. The manservant could drown in the moat with the Prince, as far as he was concerned, he was as annoying as his master.

Hook hurried the rest of the way to the ballroom, in no mood to run into any more of the Prince's men, and breathed a sigh of relief when he got there without seeing any.

"Hook!"

He smiled at Henry's excited shout, which the lad immediately tried to cover with a casual shrug, caught between the exuberance of a child and the dignity of a young man.

Snow had her arm over her grandson's shoulders, and she looked Hook up and down, frowning.

"Thank you for the gift, Highness," Hook said, bowing to her with a flourish of his hook, and a smile quirked her lips.

"Charming bet me that you wouldn't wear it. Well, he was half right, so I guess I'll have to call it a draw."

"Here comes Mom," Henry said, and Hook turned, following where the boy was pointing.

Emma stepped into the room. Hook blinked at the sight of her. She was all done up in a formal gown, cinched waist, full skirts spilling over her hips and falling in graceful folds to the floor. Her hair was piled in a mess of curls on top of her head, a few left loose to rest on her bare shoulders. As she walked towards them, he got a better look at the dress. It was dove gray, with a design embroidered all over the bodice in black thread. In colour and in pattern, it exactly matched the waistcoat he was wearing and the jacket he had left behind in his room.

He whipped his head back to look at Snow, who was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"You would have won the wager if you'd have told me," he said, and she shrugged.

"We agreed that would be cheating," she replied, and winked at him.

"You look nice, Mom," Henry said as Emma joined them.

"Thank..." she started to reply, before halting abruptly, looking down at her dress and then at Hook's attire.

"A vision of loveliness," Hook said quickly, bowing to her, "Milady."

"Riiiiight," Emma drawled, throwing a look to her mother.

"Hey," David said, joining the group. He eyed Hook, and then turned to his wife, "Draw?"

Snow smiled, taking her husband's arm. Emma glared at them suspiciously.

"Come Swan," Hook said, holding his hand out to Emma, "Let us fetch some refreshment."

Still frowning at her mother, Emma took his hand and he tucked her arm under his. Henry ran ahead, leading the way to the table where food and drink were laid out.

"Have you seen Francis?" Emma asked.

"Anxious to trade my company for his? You wound me, Swan. Unless...trying to make me jealous, darling?"

Emma rolled her eyes, "Anxious to avoid his stupid ass as much as I can."

Hook smiled at her, "Your wish is my command, love."

True to his promise, Hook avoided the Prince as much as he could, steering Emma around the room as gracefully as he steered his ship, keeping her on the opposite side from her unwanted suitor. Henry flitted around them, darting to and fro to talk to the people he had finally remembered, while Emma smiled at him fondly. They drank wine and toasted with their friends and allies, and Hook felt the weight of Emma's arm on his the whole time. She had made no move to let go, and he was hardly about to dislodge her.

Regina had given a decidedly unregal snort when they had run into her, eyebrow raised as she looked them up and down.

"Well, if it isn't Princess Barbie and a Ken the dog chewed on."

"Oh, shut it," Emma shot back.

"I'm surprised Prince Flirty isn't here clinging to your skirts, reciting you more of his lovely poetry like the other day. Such...inventive rhymes he had for Emma."

"What rhymes with Emma?" Hook asked, trying to think of a single word that did.

"Nothing," Emma replied, wincing, "At least, nothing if you pronounce the words properly. Then he moved on to Swan and kept calling me a gentle dappled fawn."

Regina laughed in delight, "Do you think he'd write it down for me if I asked? I do not want to forget that one."

She looked over, where the Prince in question was talking to his manservant, staring daggers over the man's shoulder at Hook while Emma buried her face in her hand.

"Here he comes again," Hook said as Francis started towards them. Quickly, he slipped his arm around Emma's waist and swung her out onto the dance floor.

She let out a squeak of surprise but quickly recovered, grasping his raised hand. She looked around quickly at the other couples all twirling around them.

"Ah, hell," she said, and he pressed his hook gently into her waist, prompting her to move.

"Over there," Emma indicated with her head, and they glided somewhat awkwardly to the other side of the floor. She slipped her hand out of his and stepped away from the dancers, looking at them and chewing on her lower lip.

"I suppose I'm going to have to get lessons in how to do this properly. Is it hard to learn?"

"Depends on the dance," he replied, confused, "Do they not have dancing in your realm?"

"Yeah, but not like that. It's more...freeform. You just kind of sway to the music, there isn't specific steps. Unless it's something like the Electric Slide or the Macarena. Ugh, please don't tell me the Macarena exists here?"

"The maca-what?" Hook was completely baffled.

"Oh, thank you Lord," Emma muttered, "Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Would you like to dance the way you know?" he asked, curious. Most princesses were renowned for their graceful dancing, but then Emma wasn't most princesses, "You could show me how."

Emma looked over at the musicians playing on a raised platform.

"I don't think the band knows any club hits. Would look like kind of weird if I tried to bust a move out there to this."

She said the oddest things at times, things that reminded him of the gulfs between their realms. He'd been there, he'd seen it, but he suspected the differences went far deeper than his brief glimpse into the world she had come from.

"I could teach you some of the dances, if you like. As long as you teach me some of your dancing. This "Electric Slide" sounds intriguing."

"Captain Hook can dance?" she said teasingly, "Spend a lot of time waltzing around the deck, huh?"

He loved it when she teased him, had from the start and he smiled back at her.

"Oh, I am well versed in many forms of dancing. And I look forward to the day when I get to show you just how well I can…..move."

He went to slide his arm around her waist when he felt a presence at his back.

"You must honour me with a dance, Highness."

They both jumped at the sound of Francis's voice. Hook clamped his mouth shut, biting back the curse that immediately sprang to his tongue. He hadn't been paying attention and the royal bastard had snuck up on them.

Emma put on her polite smile again and faced Prince Fantastic Timing.

"I'm afraid I don't know the dance," she said.

The Prince lit up, "I will show you!" he said, and then he had his hand on Emma's waist and was tugging her out onto the floor.

"Fine, one dance," Emma grumbled, taking a step back when Francis tried to pull her closer.

Hook closed his eyes and let out a breath. The man was leaving in the morning, there was nothing to be gained by sweeping Swan back into his arms where she belonged and sparking a fight. He had battled over her once already, with an opponent who actually stood a chance, and she had not been best pleased by it. He could shove his jealous, possessive side down for one dance.

Prince Footwork could dance, Hook would give him that. He was doing a decent job at working around Emma's inexperience and when the dance ended he had managed to maneuver them so that they were on the other side of the floor from where Hook stood. There was no way that had been an accident.

Hook watched as Emma dropped Francis's hand immediately and accepted a goblet of drink a servant girl offered up to her. Well, the Prince had received his dance, he would get no more. Hook started making his way around the dance floor, heading over to retrieve Emma.

"Hook! Have a drink with us!"

Robin and several of his men blocked Hook's way, smiling and laughing and shoving a drink into his hand. He took it and tossed it back in one go, to much hooting and hollering and clapping of hands.

"Gentleman!" Hook said, saluting them with the empty glass.

"Another!" someone called out, but Hook laughed and laid his hook across his heart.

"Alas, I must refuse. As much as I relish your good company, there is a fairer companion waiting for me."

"I do not think I need to contemplate as to whom you could be referring," Robin said, with a wink, "We shall not delay you any longer."

He clapped Hook on the shoulder and moved aside. Hook grinned and returned the gesture, and looked over to where he had last seen Emma.

She wasn't there.

Robin and his men moved on, as Hook started turning in a circle, scanning the vast room. He saw Snow and David on the dance floor, Henry with Regina, Bae talking to Tink, but no Swan and no irritating prince.

He pushed his way through the crowd to the spot where they had last been standing. A knot of worry had settled into his gut, even though he knew it was ridiculous. They were in the middle of her parents' castle, surrounded by friends, she couldn't have just disappeared without a trace.

He went through an archway that led to a hallway behind the ballroom. It was strangely quiet, the sounds of the party receding behind him as he looked side to side, searching for some indication if Emma had come this way.

"You're certain? She drank it all?"

His head snapped to the left at the sound of the voice and he crept forward on silent feet.

"Yes sir, I watched the whole time and the glass was empty when she gave it back to me."

Hook whirled around the corner and the two speakers jumped, eyes wide and startled. It was Francis's fat manservant, and a young maid. The same girl who had come out of the manservant's room and almost ran into Hook. The same girl who had offered a drink to Emma when she had finished her dance with Francis.

He grabbed the manservant and slammed him into the rough stone wall, pressing the point of his hook into the man's cheek.

"What was in the drink? Was it poison?"

In his head was a desperate plea of _"Please no, please no, please no,"_

The man didn't answer, and Hook pressed down, breaking the skin and letting a thick droplet of blood trickle down the man's face.

"Answer me!" he spat.

"It'll be too late, pirate. Princess Emma will marry my master and forget all about you."

Hook's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. A love potion.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Emma's voice, loud and angry, floated down the hall. Hook released the servant and went running after it, darting through a door that lead to a wide terrace. Emma was there, glaring daggers at Francis who had his hands up in an imploring gesture.

Hook took two steps and grabbed the man, holding him in a tight bear hug.

"What did he do?" he asked Emma.

"He tried to kiss me, and when I pushed him away, he tried again!"

A kiss to activate the potion, Hook thought, thanking all the deities he could name that he hadn't been too late.

"Emma," he started to say, to tell her what had happened, but she was moving towards them, yelling at Francis.

"A piece of advice pal, when a girl says no, she means no!"

The Prince's arm flew up, partially dislodging Hook's hold on him, and he grabbed at Emma's hand, yanking her forwards roughly. Hook didn't even have time to think, he shoved Francis's head to the side, uncaring if he broke the man's neck, and pushed him down.

Emma stumbled into Hook, her face crashing into his and he felt the briefest touch of her lips against his.

She reeled back, hand to her brow as she cried out in pain. Hook stood frozen, feeling sparks dancing across his lips, and he saw a puff of pink smoke come out of Emma's mouth, forming a brief heart shape before dissipating. Her hand dropped, and she stated at him. He felt his heart clench in his chest at the look on her face.

Soft, dreamy, eyes wide and lips raised in a smile, it was the look of a woman in love. And she was aiming it right at him.

"Hello," she said, sounding dazed, and then her eyes rolled back and her knees started to buckle, and he realized with horror that she was about to pass out.

Hook caught her before she hit the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, can't believe so many of you are following this! On with the show!**

**Chapter 3: Seven Days**

He wanted to hit something.

He wanted to hit someone.

He wanted to hit a certain royal someone.

Very, very hard.

He tapped his hook into the table, imagining the wood was Francis's face.

"Would you stop that!" David snapped at him.

Hook bit back a retort. Charming was worried about his daughter, and he was not the person Hook wanted to take out his frustration on.

They had all come running at the commotion, spilling out onto the terrace where Hook sat with Emma unconscious in his lap, cradled in his arms. Francis stood up and pointed a finger at him, loudly accusing Hook of trying to assault Emma and claiming he had come to her defense.

"Hook, what happened?" Snow asked, crouching down next to them. He looked up and saw they were all glaring at the Prince, forming a protective phalanx around him and Emma on the floor.

He realized with a start that they had instantly jumped to his side, and he knew that they would believe what he said without question and not the lies the Prince was frantically trying to spin.

It was borne out when David had stormed over to the Prince and punched him square in the face after hearing Hook's explanation.

It was exceedingly satisfying to be on the opposite side of that, for once.

The protesting Francis had been dragged off by the royal guards while David and Robin followed. Hook had lifted the still unconscious Emma in his arms and carried her to a room where Regina and Snow could examine her, a very scared Henry following behind and Bae doing his best to reassure his son.

He had wanted to stay, but Regina had pushed him out brusquely, claiming she couldn't do anything with him hovering over her, and she understood potions and magics better than anyone else around, he couldn't antagonize her, not when Emma needed her help.

Bae took Henry back to his room, and somehow Hook wound up waiting for news in a small room with David and Robin. They sat without speaking, worry etched on their faces.

He was going to kill Francis. He would sink his hook in the man's belly and gut him like a fish.

Hook opened and closed his hand, making a fist over and over again. He was furious and on the edge of lashing out. He was angry at himself for not seeing the threat, for dismissing the Prince as nothing more than a mild annoyance and letting him so close to Emma. He was supposed to protect her, he was supposed to watch her back, and he'd failed.

He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. If he'd just been faster, if he'd kept a better grip on Francis, then he wouldn't have been able to grab her, and she wouldn't have stumbled forward.

Her lips wouldn't have touched Hook's, and she would never have given him that look.

It was the look he had wanted to see on her face, had longed for, had dreamed of, why he had really shown up at her door after a bitter year apart. It was what drove him back to her, again and again, for Swan to one day look at him, at the fearsome Captain Hook, the scourge of the seas, and see Killian Jones, the man who loved her with everything that he was, everything that he had, and love him back.

And he had finally seen it.

But it hadn't been real.

He would kill Francis for that.

The door opened and the three men all snapped to attention as Regina walked in.

"You want the good news or bad news first?" she asked, and plowed on without waiting for an answer, "The bad news, Charming, is that your daughter is now in love with…...that," she waved her hand dismissively at Hook.

"Regina," David said, voice low and frustrated.

"The good news is, it'll wear off in a week."

Hook slumped forward, relief flooding through him.

"A week?" Robin repeated, "Well that's not very long, is it?"

"Long enough," Regina shrugged, "He could have married her and had her pregnant in a week."

He wasn't going to kill Francis, he was going to torture him until the bastard was begging for death.

"There was more potion in his room," David said, "he was going to keep dosing her with it, most likely. But Emma's okay? There's no side effects or anything, it just wears off?"

"She's fine," Regina answered in that matter of fact way she had, "She's not too happy with Prince Foolhearty right now, though."

The door opened again and Emma walked in, followed by her mother. Swan's eyes swept the room, and when they landed on Hook they held no trace of the lovesick gaze she'd had earlier. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or insulted. She was under the effects of a love potion, she shouldn't be looking at him the same way she always did.

"David," she said, settling her attention on her father, "Where is Prince Fuckface?"

"Emma!" Snow gasped, as Regina looked vastly amused by the new nickname.

"Bastard fucking roofied me, I'll call him what I want. Where is he?"

"He's locked up in the dungeon," David admitted.

Emma snatched up a heavy silver candlestick off the table.

"Excuse me, I'm going to go hit him repeatedly in the face with this."

Hook stood up, "Capital idea, lead the way Swan."

"Emma...Hook, you can't go beat him up."

"You got to hit him in the face," Hook pointed out, "only fair that she gets a chance to get her licks in."

David sighed, "Look, he's unarmed, he's locked up and as much as I'd love for us all to take turns punching him, he's not a subject of this kingdom. By law he's entitled to a fair trial, and his kingdom has to be properly notified of what happened, otherwise we risk a war with them, and we can't afford to go to war again right now."

Hook leaned forward on the knuckles of his good hand, "Give him to me then, I'll take him out to sea and you can tell his bloody kingdom he was kidnapped by pirates."

They started arguing, voices raised as they all squared off.

"...I know, but due process, Emma, remember….!"

"...and screw that! He is due for my fist to meet his face!..."

"...drop him in shark-infested waters. And if you hadn't invited the git to stay in the first place..."

"...not my fault! Like we were supposed to know what was going to happen..."

"...face justice, Emma, sweetheart, put that down..."

"…oh, don't destroy the good silver on the man, use that one, it's pewter."

"REGINA YOU ARE NOT HELPING!"

Snow was the first to notice,

"Err, Emma," she said.

Everyone else followed her gaze down to where Emma had slipped her fingers with Hook's, holding his hand. He hadn't even felt it, too caught up in the fight to realize that she had touched him.

"Dammit!" Emma said quietly, letting go as a deep flush spread across her face and down into the low neckline of her gown.

"It's...it's fine," Hook said weakly.

The fight went out of him immediately, and while he hadn't felt Emma take his hand, he felt the absence of her touch like a sudden sharp burn across his palm.

She wasn't looking at him, she stared down at the table. The candlestick was still clutched in her other hand and she set it down softly.

"Fine, David, you win. I'm going to check on Henry again and then I'm going to bed."

Hook wanted to say something to her, but he had no idea what or how she would respond.

Emma left the room without looking at him and he wanted nothing more than to jump out the window and flee the castle, to stay away until the potion wore off. If she kept touching him, if she looked at him in the way she had on the terrace, when she didn't really want to, when she didn't have control, it was going to destroy him.

It wasn't love, it was a pathetic mockery and for the life of him he couldn't understand why anyone would want it.

David murmured that he was going to check in with the guards posted over Francis and his men and followed Emma out the door.

"I should leave," Hook said, fighting the urge to curl his hand against his chest, "just for the week, until she's over it."

"That's not a good idea," Regina said.

"Why not?!" Hook raged at her.

She looked nonplussed by his anger, "Because, loverboy, we don't know the effect it will have on Emma. You activated the potion,"

"By accident!" Hook interjected.

"And if you leave, she might become heartsick, and not in the eat ice cream and cry way, but actually physically ill. She might be compelled to go after you, without any regard to her own safety. She may experience mental deterioration and hurt herself because you're gone and she thinks it's because you don't love her. Potions like these are notoriously unpredictable."

"Alright, I get it," he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Good," Regina's voice was crisp, "It's just a week and everything will be back to normal. Whatever that is for the two of you, anyway."

He'd lived hundreds of years and now a week suddenly felt like an unbearable eternity.

When he opened his eyes again Regina and Robin were gone and only Snow remained. She stood on the opposite side of the table looking at him. He supposed he was lucky that she didn't have an arrow pointed at his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, and her eyebrows rose.

"If it wasn't for you I would have woken up tomorrow to find my daughter had eloped with him in the night, so I'm not sure why you're apologizing."

"He shouldn't have even had the chance to get so close to her."

"Oh, and that's your fault?" she asked with an edge of sarcasm.

"Yes."

She didn't respond to that, but she looked at him with sympathy in her eyes, and when had that happened, that Snow White herself would show sympathy to him?

"This week is going to be hard on Emma." she finally said.

"You have my word that I will not attempt to use her current state to my advantage."

Snow looked surprised at that, "You don't have to give me your word, Hook, I know you wouldn't."

"Trust a pirate with your daughter's virtue then, do you?" he said bitterly

She came around the table and laid a hand on his arm. He'd never thought that she and Emma looked much alike, Swan was more her father's daughter in that respect, but the way Snow was looking at him, half-bemused and half-annoyed, it was exactly the way Emma looked at him at times, as if she was debating on kissing him or smacking him.

"Her virtue? Maybe not, although as her mother I am not following that train of thought any further. Her heart, on the other hand," she gave his arm a squeeze, "somehow I suspect that's safe with you."

* * *

Emma didn't come down to breakfast, and after the meal was over Hook shrugged on his coat and left the castle. He wandered through the grounds and down to the lake. The water was calm and as still as a mirror in the soft light of the early hour, he sat down on a boulder and stared out at it.

Being near water had always calmed his soul. In that strange city where he had tracked down Emma and she had shut the door in his face, he had followed the scent of the ocean to a pier where he could stand and hear the lapping of the waves and feel the salt in the air. He'd been drowning in his disappointment then, that his grand plan to gather her in his arms and restore her memory of him with a kiss had backfired rather spectacularly.

He sought the water's balm again as he brooded on another kiss, if he could even call it that. He had thought nothing could be worse than Emma not remembering him after his clumsy embrace, but he had been so very wrong.

Hook didn't know how long he had been sitting at the water's edge when the sound of footsteps on the path made him stand up, but it must have been a while, the shadows had changed and the sun was bright and clear.

Emma stopped a few feet away from him. She was dressed in the clothes from her realm again, the slim pants that were called jeans for some reason, and her favourite jacket, her hands shoved in the pockets.

"Swan," Hook greeted her.

"I realized I forgot to thank you for stopping Francis last night."

"Yes, well, I decided to make the assumption that you were not interested in becoming Princess...Fuckface."

She laughed at that, "You got that right. You know, in my world they tell women not to accept drinks from strange men. I'll have to remember that here too."

"Technically it was the maid who gave you the drink," Hook pointed out, "although I do seem to recall you accepted a drink from me in you world, when I was a stranger to you."

"Yeah," Emma drawled, "you weren't a bad-poetry-reciting, velvet-hat-wearing, creepy fuckface."

"Of course not, I am a debonair pirate gentleman, and most decidedly not a creepy fuckface."

"Pirate gentleman is an oxymoron, and you were a little bit creepy."

"It is not and I was not!"

"You were!" she insisted, "Following me around, insisting you knew me, trying to get me to drink your magic memory potion. Creepy. You're just lucky you were so sexy too."

Hook felt his eyebrows raise in surprise as Emma clearly realized what she had said, her eyes slammed shut and she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Sexy?" he repeated.

"Shit," she mumbled, "Okay, go on, tease me about that all you want. You must be loving this."

"No actually, I'm not," he said, matter of fact.

Emma looked at him, clearly confused. Hook sighed, he was going to have to lay his cards on the table in front of her, again.

"I have made my feelings about you plain. If you do not return my affections, I will have to find a way to live with that. But I want you Emma, all of you, and I have for a very long time now. I want you, but I will have you only of your own free will, and right now you don't have that to give."

"Hook," she said, discomfort clear in her voice as she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

"It's not what I want to have you love me for a week only because you have no choice, to hear the words from your lips and know you don't mean them," his voice cracked slightly and he looked down, "it's...not a pleasant feeling."

"I...I..." she stuttered, and then she was crying, tears falling down her cheeks and sobs escaping from her throat, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She reached out blindly, catching his arm and pulling him into a hug. Hook wrapped his arms around her as she pressed her face against his shoulder.

"Don't apologize love," he whispered, stroking her hair with his good hand.

She went stiff in his arms and wrenched herself from him, stumbling away, "Please don't call me that right now."

He cursed inwardly as she turned her back to him and walked a few steps. Hook expected her to keep going, back to the castle and away from him, but she stopped.

"I'm sorry," he said, "it won't happen again, I swear."

Emma leaned forward, her hands braced on her thighs. Her breathing was laboured and his hand twitched at his side at the sound. He longed to offer her comfort but he knew he couldn't.

"You know," he said, trying to think of something that would lighten the heavy mood settled over them, "Say the word and my offer still stands. Sharks as far as the eye can see, he'll stand on the plank and piss himself just from the sight of them in the water. Or I'll fetch you all the candlesticks in the castle and hold him down for you."

After a long moment she turned her head to the side and spoke over her shoulder.

"You really would, wouldn't you?" she asked, voice soft but thankfully free of tears.

"Aye."

Emma straightened up, "Forget the candlesticks. I brought something with me from the sheriff's office in Storybrooke. It's called a taser."

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"C'mon pirate, I'll explain on the way."

She started up the path that led back to the castle.

Hook followed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I intended to get the sexy hijinks started in this chapter, but I wound up with Captain Charming instead. Hope you all enjoy!**

**Chapter 4: Father Knows Best**

David swung, turning on his left foot as his arm arced through the air. Hook rocked back and blocked the blow, grunting slightly at the impact. He pushed forward, trying to throw off David's momentum, but the other man sidestepped neatly and dropped low, slashing at Hook's leg.

The blade tapped the side of his shin.

"Point!" David yelled.

A cheer went up from the spectators. Hook grimaced, backing up with the wooden practice sword clutched tightly in his hand.

"Come on Grandpa, you're winning!" he heard Henry call out. The boy was keeping score for their sparring match, not that they really needed him to, but since both his mothers were too nervous to let him begin proper lessons yet, he had to content himself with just observing.

"Had enough, Hook?" David asked with a grin.

Hook rolled his shoulders and raised his sword, "Just getting started, mate."

He forced himself to watch David, following the shift in weight from one leg to the other, the rise of an elbow, all the little signals that his opponent was giving, indicating his next line of attack. David was beating him, and beating him soundly, but it was only due to the fact that Hook's attention kept wandering, his eyes drifting over to where Emma was perched on the fence next to Henry, watching them.

They hadn't actually used the device she called a taser on Prince Fuckface, although they had a very pleasant conversation on various ways of making the man suffer. Somehow that had turned into a discussion of life in the land without magic, when he'd asked her what she meant by "staple gun". They had talked the afternoon and most of the evening away, and although Emma had slipped a few times, calling him by endearments he pretended not to hear, for the most part she seemed to be her normal self. Neither mentioned her brief breakdown at the lake.

When she retired to her chamber for the night she had given him a smile and said, "Thanks for hanging out with me today."

"Anytime," he said, smiling back, "Goodnight Swan."

She turned and headed up the staircase, her voice drifting down behind her, "Goodnight honey."

He wondered if she was even aware she had said it.

When David suggested sword practice in the morning Hook accepted immediately, looking forward to the activity as a way to work out some of his frustration and clear his head. He hadn't counted on Emma coming along to watch though, which turned out to have the complete opposite effect.

"Point!" David called again, whacking him in the ribs, "Focus, man! This is getting embarrassing."

Hook gritted his teeth and forced his gaze away from Emma. He dropped his sword and held up a finger in the universal gesture of "wait one moment".

David stepped back while Hook shrugged off his coat and strode over to where Henry and Emma sat, hanging the heavy leather over the fence next to them.

"You're not doing so hot," Henry pointed out. Beside him Emma had her arm propped on her knee, chin resting in her palm. She looked a little tired, there were shadows under her eyes and a tightness around her mouth, but she smiled at him easily enough.

"Eye of the tiger, Hook."

Another comment he didn't understand, "What do tiger's eyes have to do with sword fighting?"

She shrugged, "You know, just get out there. Kick his ass. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee and all that jazz. You're really not going to let my dad win, are you?"

There was a teasing lilt to her voice and her tongue pointed out from between her teeth, licking her lips. He remembered a quip he had made once to her about swords and he wondered if she remembered as well.

"I will not be bested by you father," he promised.

"Well, get back in there then." she replied with a wink.

He scooped the sword back up out of the grass and faced David again.

"Need me to go a bit easier on you, old man?" David was smiling, shifting the sword from one hand to the other with a bit of flourish and clearly enjoying himself.

Hook looked over David's shoulder at Emma. She gave him a cheeky wave and he could have sworn she actually batted her eyelashes at him.

He tossed the sword up in the air, spinning it and catching it with a flick of his wrist.

"Never!" he replied to David's taunt, and lunged.

They jabbed and parried, moving up and down the field in a blur of movement. The wood swords crashed together over and over again until with one final block, Hook's split and broke clear in half.

David stepped back, panting and dripping with sweat. Hook could feel his shirt sticking to his back and his hair plastered to his forehead and knew he looked no better.

"That was awesome!" Henry yelled, "I couldn't even keep up you were going so fast, I don't know who won."

"My blade broke," Hook said, "Your victory, sir."

David looked like he was about to collapse, "Okay then," he wheezed.

Hook wiped the sweat out of his eyes and squinted over at the fence.

"Where's your mother?" he asked Henry, slowly making his way over to the boy.

"She went back inside," Henry answered, jumping down from the rail.

Hook frowned. He was annoyed that he hadn't seen Emma leave. The last time she had disappeared on him she'd almost wound up Princess Fuckface. He then noticed something else was missing.

"Where's my coat?"

Henry looked at the now bare spot on the fence where the coat had been and waved vaguely in the direction of the castle,"Mom took it with her."

Hook's frown grew deeper. Swan had taken his coat?

Henry picked up David's practice sword and rolled it around in his hand, making a few cautious swipes at the air.

"Turn your wrist a little," David instructed, leaning heavily against a fence post.

"You daughter has absconded with my coat," Hook informed him.

"Huh," was David's only reply.

"Your eloquence is astounding, Your Highness."

David raised a hand and began ticking points off on his fingers, "Okay Captain Sarcasm, let's review. My daughter, who is currently under the effects of a powerful love potion, has stolen your coat," he pointed at Hook, " Your coat, that you always wear. The one that might as well have your name on the back, Property of Captain Hook. Yes, it's quite the mystery."

Hook raked his hair back from his face with his fingers. David was looking at him, shaking his head with either amusement or disgust, Hook couldn't tell.

"I wanted to leave until she was over it, but the Queen said it might hurt her."

The words spilled out of him in a rush and Hook looked down at the ground, unwilling to meet Emma's father's eyes.

"I know, Snow told me." David said evenly.

Hook spoke in a whisper, "I don't want her to suffer because of me."

"It's not you fault, Hook. You were right, I never should have invited Francis,"

"Fuckface," Hook corrected.

"Fine, I never should have invited Fuckface to stay. I should have said something when it became clear that he was interested in Emma. Warned him off, done the whole "stay away from my daughter" speech or something."

"I'm familiar with it," Hook said, looking up again.

"Clearly it needs work though, since it doesn't appear to have deterred you much."

David turned, watching Henry run around the practice field, waving the sword. His voice was neutral, as if they were discussing something as inconsequential as the weather, "Snow also said that you gave your word not to take advantage of Emma before it wears off."

Hook tensed, "I did," he said, carefully, "Do you wish me to also swear an oath to you that I won't?"

"Anyone else and it wouldn't be an oath I'd ask for, they'd be tossed in the dungeon next to Fuckface."

David kept his eyes on his grandson as he continued, "Emma would hate you afterwards if you did. And I think you'd probably hate yourself as well. I saw what you went through when she was gone, and I know what you gave up to get her back. You're not going to throw that all away for some potion-induced fling, you're not that stupid."

"Your opinion of my intelligence notwithstanding, I swear that,"

"Stop," David interrupted him, "it's not necessary."

"It is to me," Hook said. David met his gaze and nodded.

"I swear that I won't hurt her. Ever."

"There was a time when I wouldn't have believed that."

"And now?" Hook asked.

There was a hint of a smile on David's face when he answered, "Well, I'm going to stop giving you the "stay away from my daughter" speech. Not that you ever listened to it anyway."

"Thanks," Hook said, feeling a weight he hadn't even known he was carrying lift off his shoulders.

"I still need to warn you though, if you do break her heart I'll stab you in yours with your own hook."

Hook's lips twitched with a slight smile of his own, even as he kept his voice formal, "I would expect nothing less from a loyal father such as yourself."

David smirked, "Don't you forget it. Come on Jones, I don't know about you, but I need a drink."

He clapped his arm around Hook's shoulder and called out to Henry, "Don't tell your mother, but I'm having one made for you."

"She'll stab you when she finds out, mate."

"Yeah," David agreed, "That's why I intend to throw you in front of me so you can distract her."

"Ah, the legendary bravery of Prince Charming," Hook's voice was sarcastic.

But he was smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here be angst**

**Chapter 5: Dress You Up In My Love**

He slung the towel around his neck and raised his arms above his head, stretching and working out the stiffness in his limbs. He could feel the sore spots where bruises were undoubtedly forming. David had kept his force mostly in check during their sparring match, but a few blows had met their mark with some heft behind them.

Hook stood in his chamber, drying off after a quick wash. After returning to the castle he'd sat in the kitchens with David, and enjoyed a few mugs of ale and some bread and cheese to restore themselves after their exertions, while kettles of water were heated up and carried to his room.

He'd stripped to the waist and scrubbed off the dried sweat, dunked his head and washed his hair with a bar of fine-milled soap that smelled of wildflowers and honey. He'd left the window open while he bathed and the cool air felt good on his bare skin. The breeze ruffled through his damp hair as he tossed the towel aside and refastened the brace for his hook. He went to the wardrobe for a fresh shirt, intending to search out Emma and his missing coat once he was dressed.

As he rummaged through his clothing he heard a knock at the door. Hook assumed it was the servants returning to take away the water and he called out over his shoulder, "Enter."

He heard the door swing open, the hinges creaking slightly, and soft steps, not the heavy stride of the footman who had carried in the kettle.

"Hello sailor."

Emma's voice behind him made his back go stiff and he turned around, clean shirt in his hand.

She stood in the doorway, completely enveloped by his coat. One long bare leg peeked out as she took a step towards him and his hand opened, the shirt noiselessly falling to the floor.

Emma smiled, reaching behind her and pushing the door closed as she took another step forward.

Hook's throat had gone completely dry and he swallowed audibly, acutely aware of his own half-clad state and frozen by the sight of Emma's exposed leg.

She stopped and lifted her hands to the coat's collar, turning her head and pressing her nose to the leather. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deep.

"It smells like you. That's why I took it. It reminds me of you."

"Emma," he said, helplessly.

"You were wearing this the day I kissed you. Do you remember?"

Did he remember? There had been days when he had done nothing but remember that kiss, the feel of her fingers on the collar, yanking him forward into her, kissing him with all the passion he had known was inside of her, the fire that had ignited within him that had alternately warmed him and burned him from that day on.

Did he _remember_?

Emma had the collar pressed against her cheek, rubbing against it like a cat. Her eyes opened and her gaze was hazy and unfocused.

"Why am I fighting so hard against this?" she asked, taking another half step towards him, "Why am I fighting so hard against you?"

He had wanted to ask her those very same questions more times than he could count but now was not the time to contemplate the possible answers. He shoved his own feelings aside as best he could, "The potion, Emma, this isn't you, it's just the potion."

She was so close to him and he was terrified, for the first time since she had taken the blasted potion she appeared to have seriously lost control of herself.

"I don't care," she said, reaching for him.

Hook's hand shot out, catching her shoulder and holding her in place.

"Emma, please," he implored, "Fight it!"

She shuddered hard, her whole body rippling, and she gritted out between clenched teeth, "I can't, I can't, I can't. I can't stop it. I'm trying...please...I can't."

Emma pulled back, whirling around and racing to the door, slamming her hands against the wood with such violence that he could feel it rattle in his own bones. Hook's heart was racing in his chest, blood pounding in his ears. Her obvious agony was cutting through him like a knife.

"All I can think about is you. I can't sleep, I can't eat...there's nothing else but you."

She turned and Hook could see it in her face, the exhaustion, the struggle. But she was fighting and fighting hard, stubborn lass that she was.

"Let's get you back to your room," Hook said, "I'll fetch your mother, Regina, they'll help you,"

"No."

Emma launched herself off the door and came at him, pressing him against the wardrobe as every inch of her body moulded itself to his. Her hands slid against his bare shoulders and her face hovered mere inches from his. He slammed his head back, but he had nowhere else to go, trapped between the unforgiving wood at his back and the curves of her soft body, draped in his own coat.

"I thought it might be enough, the coat," she said, so close that he could feel her breath against his lips, "if I had something of yours to hold, I could keep pretending everything was fine, but it's not working. I need more."

Hook felt the strain in his entire body, trying desperately to hold himself back and not press forward against her. David's voice warned in his head, _"Emma would hate_ _you if you did...and you'd hate yourself,"_ and he had been right, of course he was right.

She ran her hands down his chest, pulling back slightly to give herself room, and Hook saw the opportunity, grabbing her arm and spinning them around so that she was pushed against the wardrobe and he could put some space between them. His skin felt like it was on fire where she had touched him, and he was hard and aching for her, but he would not break, not when Emma needed him to be strong.

He'd suffered worse torments in his life.

Although at the present moment he couldn't remember a single one.

Emma was breathing in shallow pants, green eyes staring at him, piercing right into his soul.

"I need you to help me," she said, her eyes drifting shut and she tilted her head back, banging it against the wardrobe behind her, "It hurts," she moaned

"I know," Hook murmured, "You have to fight it, Emma."

"I can't!"

"You can. The things you can do, you amaze me every day. You are so brave, lass. Please, just keep fighting, it's just a few days more."

Her eyes opened again, "Don't you want me?"

He actually laughed, the absurdity of the situation hitting him and making a short bark of mirth leave his lips. He wanted nothing but her, and he'd spent decades taking what he wanted without a second thought. If he closed the distance between them, he could have everything, she was too far gone to deny him, he could see it on her face, open book that she was.

But she would hate him for it afterwards.

And he would hate himself more.

"Never think for a second that I don't want you," Hook said, unwilling and unable to lie to her.

"Then why?" Emma asked, her voice breaking.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. Her hands grasped his biceps, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to mark him.

"I'll take care of you. Just trust me," he whispered, voice as soft and gentle as he could make it, "Can you do that?"

Emma sagged slightly, fingers loosening their hold on his arms, "Yes."

Hook took a step back, looking her up and down.

"Are you wearing anything under that?" he asked, hesitant.

She didn't answer, but her hands went to pull the coat apart and he slammed his eyes shut. He heard the thump of it hitting the floor and he backed up even more, hand clenched into a tight fist at his side.

"Ever the gentleman," Emma's voice was a touch stronger, a hint of her normal humour returning, "I'm not naked."

"You promise?" he kept his eyes closed, wishing he had her gift for detecting lies.

"Can you trust me?" she challenged.

He blinked quickly, taking a brief glance to be sure, and sighed with relief.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would be relieved Emma Swan _wasn't_ unclothed in his chamber, he would have assumed that person was completely mad.

She wasn't wearing much, a sleeveless shirt that clung to her torso and revealed more than it covered, and short pants that stopped mid-thigh. He knew women's attire was very different in the world she came from, but this was ridiculous.

"Bloody hell, Swan," he swore, rubbing his hand over his jaw.

She swayed a little where she stood, the smile on her face turning pained.

"Hook," she whined.

He grabbed his discarded shirt off the floor and wrapped it around her, pulling her off her feet and into his arms. Emma's head fell against his chest and he carried her to the bed, laying her down gently and settling himself behind her, careful not to let her lower body touch his.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Giving you something to hold on to. Something more than just my coat," he replied, tightening his arms around her, "Try to sleep, you need the rest."

"You'll stay with me?" she asked.

He pressed his nose into her hair. His good arm was slung over her body and he found her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"I won't leave you. Not again, Emma, never again. When you were gone...I missed you so much. It nearly killed me."

The raw honesty stung his throat and he clung to her, hard, probably too hard, but she was gripping his hand with equal force.

"I wish...I wish I had remembered you. I wish I had missed you too."

Her voice was so low he almost couldn't hear the words. Hook closed his eyes. Was it the potion that made her think it, or was the sentiment her own? He couldn't ask because she couldn't answer.

Eventually Emma's breathing evened out and her hand went slack, letting go of him as she fell asleep. He lay for a long while, hand resting on her hip, until his own fatigue stole over him and he drifted off beside her.

When Hook awoke in the dark room, Emma was gone and a blanket was draped over him. He sat up, frowning. He could see the dark shape of his coat, hung over the armchair next to the wardrobe.

He got up and went over to it, picking it up and holding it up to his nose. She had said it smelled like him, but now all he could smell was her, traces of her lingered on the collar, imprinted into the leather. He sighed and let the coat fall back down. He'd never be able to wear it again without thinking of her, not that he didn't already, ever since the day she had curled her fingers into it and he found his heart again in a grateful kiss.

The hook was twisted back into place and he went looking for his shirt. It wasn't on the armchair, and he couldn't find it in the wardrobe. Hook flipped back the blankets on the bed, wondering if it had fallen off Emma when she slept, but it wasn't there either.

She must have taken it with her.

He looked up to the ceiling and sent out a prayer.

"Hold on love."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: A Pirate's Treasure**

"Your Highness."

Sarcasm is an art form, one he's had centuries to perfect. He puts derision on every letter, each syllable dripping with contempt that turns an honorific into an insult.

Crown Prince Francis and the rest of his bloody names and titles was standing pressed against the back wall of his cell, as far away from Hook as possible.

Hook was disappointed to see that the room was not some filthy hovel, but a decent size space that was clean and even had a window that let in fresh air and light. Clearly, David needed some instruction in what a proper dungeon looked like. If it had been up to Hook, well, he was still partial to the sharks in the Seas of the South.

"What are you doing here, pirate?" Francis challenged, in his own best disdainful tone which was no match for Hook's.

"Just came to have a friendly chat," Hook responded. He started a slow pace in front of the cell, dragging his hook across the bars as he went, and smiled darkly at Francis's frightened swallow.

"I suppose it's in your nature, a Prince trying to snag himself a princess, aye? Just like in the stories? However the execution...not very noble of you, now was it?"

The Prince flushed, "I will not be lectured about nobility by the likes of you. Clearly you have worked some type of enchantment on them, why else would they accept you in their midst, paying court to the Princess? I saw the way you looked at Emma, I was only attempting to break whatever dark hold you wielded over her. Why else would she have rejected my suit so soundly?"

Hook pretended to consider the question, "Here's a thought, because you're creepy and she doesn't like you?"

Francis's lips thinned out to a tight line. Hook leaned his good arm against the bars, the picture of casual indifference, and continued on, "Do they not teach princes the art of courting a lady in your kingdom? Your form was as poor as your poetry. No wonder you had to resort to such low tactics as a love potion. Tell me, Prince, was Emma the first women you attempted to force your affections on?"

Francis's voice rose to a near shout, "I do not need to force my affections on anyone! I am the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of the Everlasting Mountain! She would have understood, once she loved me. It was merely a brief nudge, there would have been no need for more potion when she stopped looking at you and saw me!"

Hook chuckled at the man's insane logic,

"Did you honestly think that, you fool? You don't understand Emma in the slightest if you thought you could obtain her love by deception."

The Prince glared at him and stepped forward, his anger making him briefly brave, "Oh, and how does _Captain Hook_ obtain a lady's love? How is a pirate of such ill-repute worthy of a Princess? What deception did you employ to make them all believe you're some kind of hero, to win their trust?"

Hook's fingers tightened on the bars as he hissed, "I didn't _win_ it, I _earned_ it."

He realized it was true as soon as the words left his mouth and he would have genuinely smiled were he not in the presence of the enemy.

Hook straightened up and resumed his slow pace along the length of the cell, keeping his gaze on Francis as he walked, "Now, there is still the slight matter of what I am going to do with you."

Francis scoffed, "You can't do anything to me," but he backed up again to the cell wall, practically trying to melt into the stone as he followed Hook's movements with fearful eyes.

"Can't I?" Hook smiled, the smile that made better men than Francis quake in their boots and pray to their gods for mercy, "As you have so repeatedly pointed out, I am a pirate. And you, Prince, have attempted to steal my treasure. You tried to touch what didn't belong to you. You tried to take her from me, and while I may never be worthy of her, you do not even deserve to have her speak your name. Which is why you now have a new moniker that I intend to spread throughout all the kingdoms of the realm."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his weapon, aimed, and fired. Two projectiles shot out, attaching themselves to Francis's chest, and the Prince fell to the floor, twitching and spasming as a sizzling sound rent the air. He jerked and heaved as if hit by a powerful spell, and Hook watched with a satisfied smile.

"Compliments of Emma Swan, Fuckface."

"What in the name of all that is holy was that?"

Hook turned and saw Robin had poked his head in from his lookout position out in the hall. His smile grew wider as he answered, "That was a taser."

Emma had explained in great detail how to use it when she was ranting about punishing Francis, and Hook had absorbed every word.

"Pity she didn't bring the staple gun with her as well," he said, glancing over his shoulder to the Prince in a heap on the floor.

Robin's eyes were rounded with amazement, "It must contain powerful magic," and he looked past Hook into Francis's cell, "Is he dead?"

As if in response, Francis moaned.

"No," Hook said.

"And yet you're still smiling?" Robin tilted his head, looking confused.

Hook shrugged, "That was just a warning shot across his bow. The real cannon fire comes later."

"Later?"

"When my lady can light the fuse."

Hook pocketed the taser and strode out of the outer cell, pulling the door shut behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

**To everyone who has read and reviewed and favourited and followed this - thank you so much! I am so happy with the response this is getting.**

**Shoots Zelena with a taser, BZZZT! No? I can only write fanfic? Okay, fine.**

**Seven Minutes in Heaven**

Swan was following him.

He'd had glimpses of blonde hair ducking behind corners, soft footsteps shadowing his own, and smothered laughter with every turn in his step.

Hook didn't mind it, of course, but he wasn't quite sure what she was playing at. So he puttered about, not doing much of anything, and let her reveal herself in her own time.

She'd almost done so in the stable, Hook was sure, as he made inspection of the horses while she watched from the hayloft. And then again in the armory, half-hidden amongst the hanging chain while he absently polished his sword. But she held back, bright eyes staring at him through the dusty beams of sunlight that streamed in through the windows and traced patterns on the floor. Hook smiled in her direction, keeping his gaze downcast, his movements quiet and restrained, as if trying to coax a wild animal out of it's hiding spot.

But she moved farther back, retreating into the shadows.

It was in the dining room where she finally made her move. He had strolled past the long table, looking at the portraits of Emma's ancestors on the walls without actually seeing them, when a pair of hands landed on his back and shoved him through a small door. He had enough time to glimpse shelves stacked with plate and glassware, and then the door clicked shut and the room was plunged into utter darkness. There was no window, no light, and only the sound of her breathing behind him.

Hook turned around, carefully, the room was tiny and there was barely space for one person to maneuver, let alone two.

"Butler's pantry," Emma's voice, high and girlish and right in front of him, "I mean, I think that's what this is called. I don't have too much experience with butlers and whatever they do...buttling? Is that a word?"

"And we are in the pantry, why exactly?"

"We're playing a game," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, like she was telling him a secret.

He felt his eyebrows raise, a silent question on his face which of course she couldn't see, but Emma answered him anyway.

"It's called seven minutes in heaven."

Her breath was warm on his face and he felt the touch of her hand on his arm. Whatever this game was, it was a dangerous one he was sure.

"Swan?" it was a question and a warning.

He felt her exhale in his face, "Oh, relax, this isn't like the other day. I'm not so...out of it, like that, right now."

She certainly sounded more akin to her old self then she had when she had come to his chamber, and he decided to play along.

"Well then, explain the rules of this game to me."

The air around him shifted, and he heard a rustle of movement. When Emma spoke her voice came up from the floor.

"Sit down and I'll tell you."

He lowered himself down, trying to fold his legs into the small space, feeling the brush of her knee against his and the warring sensations of apprehension and excitement. When he had finally settled into a semi-comfortable position, Emma cleared her throat and continued.

"It's a party game. When you're twelve, thirteen, and you're all crammed into someone's parents' basement, and you look at the boys and you no longer think they're gross and have cooties, and they're looking at you and thinking the same thing, there's these games you start to play."

"Go on," Hook said, not bothering to ask about the parts of her explanation he didn't understand.

"Well, one of them is spin the bottle, you need more people to play that. Another is seven minutes in heaven. One of the boys, and one of the girls, they go into a closet together, and shut the door, and they stay in there for seven minutes before everyone else lets them back out again."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to think of a response before finally settling on, "And what happens in those seven minutes?" even though he suspected he already knew the answer.

He could practically feel Emma's shrug as she answered, "Anything. Maybe they do nothing and they just stand in the dark silently until the time is up. Maybe they talk. Or they do what everyone assumes they're going to do, and they make out."

That he had to question because he needed to be sure what she meant, "Make out?"

"Kissing," she clarified, sounding supremely casual about it.

"That's a very curious way to refer to a kiss, Swan."

"Making out means something a bit different," she said, and he could feel her shifting around, her legs bumping up against his, "if you took me out on a date and I gave you a quick kiss goodnight at my door at the end, we could say we kissed but it's not making out. Now, if I invited you in and we sat down on the couch and I started kissing you and you kissed me back, and I put my arms around your neck and you put yours around my waist, and we didn't even want to stop to breathe, that would be making out."

He shouldn't say it, but the words spilled over his lips into the dark room, "Is that what we did in Neverland?"

There was a hitch in her voice, "Yeah."

Another thought struck him, "Wait, this is an activity at parties for children?"

Emma laughed at his scandalized tone, "Well, not children, really. Teenagers. And who knows what they do nowadays anyway, with snapchats and sexting and all that. Making out's probably considered old fashioned. Anyway, are you trying to tell me thirteen year old Killian never made out with a girl?"

She had called him by his first name before, she'd had to when Henry had no memory of him, but she'd mostly gone back to Hook after the witch had been defeated. As always with Emma, it had been two steps forward, one step back.

"At thirteen I was at sea on a ship full of men," he said, dryly, "and if by some miracle a young lass had appeared, I would have hardly dared to look at her, let alone make out with her. I don't see how shoving me into a pantry would have helped."

Her hand tapped his calf and he shivered, wishing he could see her face to gain some measure of what was going on behind her words.

"Well, see, that's the point of seven minutes in heaven. If you're too shy to look, you can't see anything anyway. You don't have time to second guess yourself, since you only have seven minutes. If you're gonna go for it, you just have to without thinking about it."

Hook could definitely see the appeal the game would hold to those at that tender age between child and adult, "And the young Emma Swan, did she play this game with some frequency?"

"Not really," the grown-up Emma replied, "I wasn't too popular when I was that age. Growing up in the foster system, you move around a lot and it's hard to make friends to invite you to the parties."

The lonely childhood, a hammer blow that helped forge the armor around Emma's heart. He'd suspected as much, knowing what he did about her history, but it still hurt to hear the admission from her, spoken as if it was a minor trifle when in truth it was anything but.

"And you have abducted me to play the game with you now? I think we've been in here longer than seven minutes."

He could feel Emma moving again, her hand pressed against his knee and he could sense her hovering above him.

"Probably, but all the time I spent explaining it to you doesn't count."

"Emma? What game are we playing here?" he asked quietly.

"The game where I get to stop thinking so much and just kiss you," she answered in a rush.

Her other hand touched his face, trailing up and into his hair and he flinched. She paused for a long moment before shifting closer. He strained into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of her, but he could only make out the vaguest shape.

"I know you're worried about me and you don't want me to do anything I'll regret later. But I never did regret kissing you, and there's been more than one time when I wanted to do it again."

Hook wanted desperately to believe her. He groped in the darkness, and his fingers grazed her neck. He should stop her, he should push her away and make a lighthearted comment, he should remember all the reasons why he shouldn't be sitting with her in the dark, playing this game.

"Seven minutes," Emma whispered, "I want to be the girl who gets seven minutes with the cutest boy at the party. Will you give me that?"

He would give her anything she asked for, sail all the known realms for gifts to lay at her feet, tear the stars from the sky and his own heart from his chest. And all she wanted was seven minutes.

"Yes."

Her lips were soft and he couldn't help the soft groan when her mouth slanted over his. Emma smiled but didn't stop. She was above him, kneeling between his legs and cupping his face in both hands. He wrapped his bad arm around her waist, resting his hook on her hip. With a slight pull, she dropped down in his lap, her hands never leaving his face, her lips never leaving his.

"Emma," he said against her mouth, and he took over control, kissing her hard, his hand in her hair. He could feel her breasts against his chest, through the layers of his shirt and hers, and it was as thrilling as when he had been a young man, discovering the wonders of soft curves and a heated mouth for the first time.

Hook longed to touch, to explore, but he held back, restricting himself from moving beyond the limits of a nervous lad who dreamed of more but was beyond thrilled with what he already had.

And there was something to be said for the simple enjoyment of kissing, to feel the weight of her arms as she slid them around his neck, holding him tight as she swept into his mouth. To run his fingers down the line of her jaw, to press his hand against her back, to fill the tiny room with the heat of their breath and the rhythm of their hearts.

They wound up with their foreheads pressed together, Emma's hand on his chest, anchored together in the dark.

"Been longer than seven minutes, I think," Emma finally said.

"I wasn't keeping track," Hook responded, sweeping his thumb down her cheek and pressing a final kiss against her lips.

She turned, pulling out of his lap and standing up. He got his feet under him and followed suit. His legs were nearly numb but he didn't care.

"Now if this really was at a party, there'd be a group just waiting for us out that door who'd whistle and cheer when we came out," Emma laughed.

Hook heard her fumble for the doorknob and the click when she found it. The light was blinding after so many minutes spent in the dark and he squinted against it while Emma stuck her head out.

She yanked back, slamming against him as she pulled the door closed.

"My parents!" she hissed.

"What?"

"Shhh! My parents are in the dining room. What the hell are they doing?" Emma said in a furious whisper.

He pressed his ear against the door and strained to hear. After a moment he caught the sound of voices, coming closer and a snippet of conversation as they passed by.

"Bad idea. You know both of them said no to that."

"Snow, he's twelve, that's plenty old enough. I'll teach him how to use it properly, he'll be perfectly safe, and besides..."

The voices trailed away. They stayed motionless for several moments, Emma pressed against his side. She shifted and slowly pulled the door open again, cautiously peeking out and then sighing with relief.

"They're gone," she said, stepping out. Hook followed, breathing heavily. It had been stifling hot in the room and he knew his face must be red and flushed.

Emma's hair was mussed, her lips were swollen from his kisses, and she smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt, looking down and not meeting his eyes.

"Nearly getting caught by my parents. Wow, that really was like being a teenager."

"Emma...I..."

She looked at him then, smiling but shy, "No regrets. Please don't feel guilty."

He sighed, because he did feel guilty, and he couldn't lie to her or employ his normal tricks of charm and distraction.

"I made a promise," he admitted.

Emma's face softened with understanding, "You promised not to take advantage of me," she guessed.

Hook hung his head, feeling ashamed. He had promised, to Snow, to David, to himself. And to her, a long time ago, that he would be an honourable man.

"Hey," Emma said, putting her fingers under his chin and lifting his head up, forcing him to look at her, "You didn't. Please believe me. If you were going to take advantage you had the perfect opportunity when I threw myself at you the other day. But you found another way to give me what I needed instead. I won't forget that."

He would play the games to the rules she set for him and hoped it would be enough to get them through. She had needed something to hold. She had needed to feel young and carefree. Whatever she needed, he would find a way.

"Hook?"

He'd been staring at her too long without speaking. He wanted so much more then seven minutes with her, but it was more then he'd once thought he'd ever get, so he settled on simple honesty.

"I enjoyed the game, Swan."

She smiled, "Yeah, so did I. Just not the part where my parents walked by. And what was David talking about, anyway? He said something about teaching something to Henry?"

He saw the opportunity and seized it, "Ah, I believe he was referring to having a practice sword made for him."

A crease immediately appeared between Emma's eyes, "What?! I said he was too young for swords and Regina agreed! We told David that!"

Hook put on his most innocent look, "That's odd, he told Henry about it after our practice session. Your boy seemed very excited about the prospect."

Emma huffed in annoyance, "Yeah, I'm sure he was, but he's going to get hurt! Oh, I am so giving David hell for this."

"As well you should," Hook agreed.

"I'm going to go find him," she said, and bit her lip, suddenly looking like a shy young maid again, "I'll see you later?"

He nodded and couldn't resist a cheeky remark, "Perhaps we shall play another game?"

"Perhaps. Maybe I'll explain Twister to you," she said, "After I finish yelling at my father," she added, heading off.

Hook leaned against the wall, watching her go. He would be honourable, but he felt no qualm at distracting her with her father's secret, after all David had planned use him in that regard, and he was still a pirate. Strike before you are stricken.

He smiled, feeling his lips tingling with the ghost of her kiss.

A pirate who'd just had a rare taste of heaven.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Precipice**

Emma was on the edge again.

They'd managed one uneventful day, of relative calmness. Swan had stuck close to her boy, clearly mistrustful of her father, and David's ears were still red from the dressing down she must have given him. Hook had stuck close to the both of them, worried about the size of the shadows under Emma's eyes and the way she kept shivering from a non-existent chill. But the hours had passed and nothing had happened, she'd met his eyes and smiled, even if she hadn't spoken much. Even if when she had talked, it was to Regina in a conversation held where no one else could overhear. Even if she had toyed with her food instead of eating it during luncheon. Even if she had rejected her mother's suggestion of an afternoon lie down.

_"__I can't eat...I can't sleep."_

As the light faded so did she, withdrawing into herself, no longer looking at him, at anyone. The shadows under her eyes lengthened, the smiles disappeared, and a palpable tension took their place.

Everyone was aware of it, she sat in the armchair next to the fireplace, bouncing her leg up and down in a jerky staccato, rebuffing the attempts by her mother and father to draw her out. They were all sprawled around the great room, but she was the focal point, the axis on which they were all turning.

Her parents, with their whispers and worried looks.

Her son, who knew something was off, even if he didn't know all the details.

The Queen, eyes narrowed and sharp, saying nothing and seeing everything.

And him.

Always him.

"Stop staring at me!" Emma snapped, leaping to her feet and stalking to the door. Hook stood up, meaning to follow her, but she held a hand up and let out a clipped, "Don't!"

It stung, and he felt his lips compress as he watched her walk away. He turned his head and met Regina's speculative gaze, and he didn't like the look on her face one bit.

"Why is she in such a bad mood?" Henry asked, and Regina smiled at him.

"She's just feeling a little…out of sorts," she explained, "the potion's almost out of her system, it's like the last day of a cold or a flu, when you're just so sick of being sick, you know?"

Henry nodded and went back to his book. The smile dropped off Regina's face and she met Hook's eye again. He felt his jaw tighten. There was more going on than Swan just feeling out of sorts. It was apparent in the tension she could no longer hide, the emotions slipping out of her in front of the rest, when before she had only revealed them when they were alone. It was swirling in the very air around them.

He reached for the flask that he didn't have at his hip and his hand fell away, clenching. Aside from a few mugs of ale that were so weak they might as well have been water, he'd touched no spirits since the night Emma had taken the potion, not wanting to cloud his head when hers wasn't clear. But by the Gods, he wanted a drink. They were close, so close to this whole ordeal being over, and that meant, of course, that hellfire was about to rain down on them instead.

Snow and David had their heads bent together and Hook watched a soft kiss and a smile pass between them, the press of hands and then Snow was gone, out the door and undoubtedly going after Emma. Charming watched his wife until she was out of sight and stared at the spot she had been for even longer.

True love wasn't always epic gestures and sweeping proclamations. It was a man who was always, always aware of where his wife was and where she had been. The stories they told in the taverns and sang at the fairs, the tale of Snow White and Prince Charming, was only one chapter in their book, only a part of the whole.

The stories they told about him, about Captain Hook, the tales to curl a child's hair and make a maiden blush and shiver, true tales all, or at least not exaggerated much, were not the sum of his existence. He knew that, but he hadn't believed for a long time, caught up in a quest for revenge that had come to define him and had almost destroyed him. Until the day he had met her.

The Princess and the Pirate made for a fine fairies' tale, with beanstalks and swordfights, magic lands and perilous journeys, but it was the moments in between that he really remembered, the first time he had earned a genuine smile, her offer of coffee before the drive from New York to Storybrooke, jumping to his defense at a prince's insult, keeping her arm threaded through his at a ball. They would never be passed down in tale or sung by a bard, but they were part of their story all the same. He couldn't pin down the exact moment he fell in love with her, he couldn't point to one second out of a thousand and know that's when it happened, but that didn't matter. All he needed to know was that it was love and it was true and he wanted it all, everything, all the moments both big and small. He wanted Emma Swan, princess and saviour, mother and friend, the light and the darkness, the laughter and the pain, he was a greedy selfish bastard, who had no right to her heart, no true claim on her, but he was hers and he hoped to hell that she could be his.

Hook stared at the armchair, the spot where Emma had been. They were so close. But he knew, with a sailor's sense, that a storm was brewing, and they were too far out to turn back now. They had to ride it out and either find themselves afloat in calm waters, or dashed to pieces on the rocks.

The minutes ticked past with agonizing slowness. All heads went up at the sound of footsteps in the hall and all eyes went to the door. Snow came back in, a worry line etched across her forehead that hadn't been there when she left. She went straight for Regina, who had stood up and met her halfway as if she had known she would be needed. They held a low conversation, and Hook could only make out one word.

_"Feverish."_

The Queen left. Snow sat down next to Henry, a too-big smile on her face as she inquired about his book. David looked at her, and Hook felt the apprehension like it was a physical thing, holding a knife to his back. He stood up again, and made a move towards the door, but Snow saw him and gave a small shake of her head and her lips formed a silent word, _"Wait."_

He sat down and stared at the armchair again, fighting the urge to take Snow by the arm and shake the words out of her. What was wrong with Emma now, when they were close, so close?

By the time Regina came back Henry had gone to his room. Snow and David looked up from their linked hands and she nodded at them.

"Go to bed, you two."

"Is she?" David asked.

"She'll be fine," Regina said, "It's almost over."

David looked like he wanted to argue, but Snow clamped her hand on his arm and they held one of those silent conversations with their eyes. He nodded at Regina, resigned to whatever the women had decided, and his arm went around Snow's waist, leading her from the room. Regina stepped aside to let the couple pass, and when they were gone she levelled her gaze at Hook.

"Come with me," she said, crisply, and not bothering to see if he followed, turned and went out the door. He rose instantly. Emma wasn't fine and it wasn't almost over, he knew it, and the feeling of dread that had been gnawing in him all day, dropped straight through to his stomach, a hot ball of lead burning in his gut.

The hour was late and the castle was deathly quiet as he walked behind Regina, through the silent halls and up the main stairs. She stopped on the landing and faced him, folding her arms across her chest.

"A love potion can't really make you fall in love," she said, "What it can do, is compel you to act as if you are in love. It draws you to the person who activated it."

_"Hello," Emma's soft and breathy greeting after their lips had met and the potion bloomed to life behind her eyes._

"You seek them out." she continued.

_Emma following him to the lake._

"You call them by all those disgusting little pet names," she rolled her eyes at the thought.

_"Goodnight honey."_

"And of course, it makes you want to share...intimacy with them," she speared him with a look, her dark eyes with their dark knowledge had him rooted to the spot where he stood.

Hook swallowed hard.

Regina went on, staring him down, "The urge to do so can be quite overwhelming. Has Emma showed any signs of this?"

He looked away from the speculation in her gaze, and didn't answer.

"I need to know, Captain. Do you want my help with this or not?"

He didn't want her help, but he knew he needed it, Emma needed it, and he forced out the words.

"She did come to my chamber."

"And?" Regina's voice was impatient.

"She wanted me to bed her," he admitted. Even if Emma hadn't actually said it, he knew that's why she had been there.

The question was immediate, "And did you?"

He seared her with a glare that would have cowed the most hardened man but of course she didn't even flinch at it.

"No."

Regina frowned, "Was that it? Was that the only time she made advances?"

He hated this, hated feeling like he was betraying Emma's privacy, their privacy, but the Queen was not asking out of idle curiosity.

"She...she asked me for a kiss."

"And did you scruples prevent you from kissing her?" she questioned with a quirk of her brow.

"No," he answered again, hating that they hadn't, "It was a few minutes only, but it was just a kiss."

It wasn't just a kiss, with Emma it would never be just a kiss.

She nodded, not looking surprised but more like her suspicions had been confirmed, "Emma is currently running a very high fever. I think it's because she hasn't had the full go round, so to speak."

He was clenching his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might shatter, "Can you break the fever?"

"No, but I think you can."

It hung there, out in the open, the insinuation plain. Regina looked at him expectantly and his reluctance must have been written on his face because she exhaled sharply.

"What is the big freaking deal? It's not like either one of you is a blushing virgin. It's not like you don't want to."

"Not like this!" he yelled, voice echoing across the stair, "Yes! I want her, but not like this, not because of this."

"Funny," Regina drawled, and he glared, because what about this situation could possible be funny, "That's almost exactly what she said."

Hook whirled away from her and stalked to the other side of the landing, barely resisting the urge to punch the wall. Emma didn't want it, even if she needed it, and if he took her to bed, now, under duress, it would always be there, between them, that she had been unwilling and he had done it anyway.

_"Emma would hate you if you did...and you'd hate yourself."_

"Why? Why can't we just wait this out, like we've been doing?" he asked.

Regina sighed, "Whoever brewed this potion wasn't stupid. This is what it was designed to do, to force that intimacy by any means necessary. Do you know what happens when a fever goes on too long without breaking? Brain damage, that's what happens. Death, that's what happens."

She could have taken his spleen out with a rusty nail and it would be less painful. He had imagined the day he would finally get to love Emma with his body more times than he could count, but in all those fantasies, she had wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

"You two are...I don't even know what the hell is going on, you're both imbeciles as far as I'm concerned when the solution is easy," she sounded supremely annoyed, "But Emma had another idea."

He hunched forward slightly, "What?"

"I'll let her explain it. But just in case it doesn't work, take this."

Hook turned, and saw Regina's hand extended, holding something out to him.

"Read it, but don't say it out loud," she said, passing him a folded up piece of paper. He complied, looking at the two words, committing them to memory, and then looked up at her, a question on his face.

"If Emma's plan doesn't work and you need to get to her, say those words."

His brow furrowed at her cryptic answer, but then something struck him and he stepped forward, forcing her to back up. He raised his hook and pointed it at her, "You knew this was going to happen. You knew it was going to come to this," he accused.

"I knew it was a possibility, yes," she said, unflinching in the face of the steel threat he had leveled at her, "Emma did too, I told her the night she drank it."

"And you didn't tell me? I could have left that night and maybe spared her all this," he raged.

"She would have gone after you. Would you really want her out there, alone, in this state and looking for you?"

He dropped his hook and felt the anger drain out of him. Regina crooked her finger and continued up the stairs, Hook stuffed the paper in his pocket and followed. She led him down a side hallway far from where he knew the royal apartments lay. Of course, it wouldn't be in Emma's own bed where she'd have the nightly reminder of it afterwards. They stopped in front of a closed door and Regina made a shooing motion with her hands.

"Have at it," she said, with an insane lack of tact and he had to stop himself from striking her. _"Have at it?"_ She really was evil.

Regina started walking back down the hall the way they had come.

"Hook?"

He looked away from the door and saw a hint of sympathy on her face.

"The fever needs to be broken. Just...figure out how."

And then she was gone.

The door was rough and scratched his fingertips when he ran them over it. Emma was on the other side, and she needed him. Their tale might end with his actions this night, the fragile possibility that lay between them might be destroyed by it, but what choice did he have? He was a greedy selfish bastard in all ways except when it came to her.

_For Emma._

Hook pushed the door open and stepped into the storm.


	9. Chapter 9

**Cliffhangers are evil, I know. Apparently, so am I. Well anyway, I hope this was worth it for you all!**

**Chapter 9: Talk Me Down From the Ledge**

It was like being doused with a swell of ice cold seawater when it came up unexpectedly over the side of the ship.

And then being set on fire.

Hook stepped into the room and quickly took it in, long and rectangular, filled with a random hodgepodge of furniture, lit by a single lamp on a table. He saw it all in an instant before his eyes zeroed in on the person in the room, everything else fading away into unimportant nothingness as he stated at Emma.

She stood on unsteady feet, wearing the shirt that had disappeared from his chamber the day she had come to him. If he thought the sight of her in his coat had been shocking, the view he had now was flat out obscene. The coat had concealed her, while the shirt did anything but. It was opened low, revealing the smooth valley between her breasts nearly down to her navel, her legs were bare and the hem grazed the curve of her bottom, the shirttails preserving her modesty but only just.

Hook jerked his eyes back up to her face, and saw that she was red and flushed and her eyes were huge, black and gleaming in the light. The green had disappeared, swallowed by the fever, the storm clearly raging within her.

"Emma," he said, voice a hoarse rasp, and moved towards her, she looked like she was going to fall over at any moment.

"Stop!" she protested, hands going up, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to her elbows, and he halted. She looked down, and following her gaze he saw a thin blue line on the floor just past her bare feet. It glowed faintly with the unmistakable gleam of magic and it blocked his path to her. He looked back up at her, confused, and she pointed her finger and drew a circle, causing a ripple in the air that rolled down to the line on the floor and up to the ceiling.

"Protection spell," Emma explained, "Regina cast it. Neither one of use can pass this line."

She felt that she needed protection from him and he reeled back as if she'd slapped him.

His voice was tight, "Swan, I can assure you that I have control over myself. You need not fear me."

She sounded upset and angry, "Oh, Jesus Christ, I'm not afraid of you. The spell isn't to protect me from you, it's to protect you from me!"

He met her eyes, startled by her response.

"Regina told you?" Emma asked.

"She said you are fevered, and that the fever must be broken."

He took a hesitant step forward. The paper Regina had given him, the words he'd memorized, he realized that she'd given him the means to break the spell, _"If you need to get to her."_

Emma pressed a hand to her forehead, "And did she share her bright idea for breaking the fever?"

He stopped just shy of the line that divided them, "She did."

Her face crumpled slightly and his heart broke a little bit. She didn't want it, but she needed it, and he tried to steel himself for what he was about to do.

"Emma, I will do whatever it is you need, you know I will," he reminded her.

"I know...but you don't want to."

"Well," he aimed for a light tone, to hide the pain he felt, "I wouldn't say that. You are a very beautiful woman."

The most beautiful woman in all the realms. And he was going to lose her, again.

She shuddered slightly and her eyes closed,"You don't want me like this, though. You said it yourself, no trickery, no taking advantage. You looked so guilty after just kissing me, are you trying to tell me you'd be just fine after having sex with me?"

Now it was his turn to shudder, "It doesn't matter how I feel. Regina said the fever must be broken or you might die, I will _not_ let that happen!"

Her eyes shot open, staring at him angrily, "It doesn't matter? How can you say that? You think I want you to be forced into this?"

He was angry now too, her damn stubbornness goading him into raising his voice, "Into what? Saving your life? I would do anything, Emma, even this, when I swore an oath that I would not take you against your will. I can only hope you would forgive me afterwards."

He added in a whisper, "Would you be able to even look at me?"

Her eyes darted away and his heart sank, she couldn't even look at him now.

She sounded resigned, "There would be nothing to forgive you for. This isn't your fault."

Hook took another step forward, eyeing the line on the floor, "Tomorrow, would you be able to look at me?" he asked again.

"It's just sex!" she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself, "Of course! It'll just be something that happened and then everything will be fine."

Everything would not be fine, it was written all over her face, in the bitterness that laced her voice. Hook reached his hand forward and felt the invisible barrier against his palm. It gave slightly under his gentle push but he could feel the limit where he would pass no further. Unless he said the words.

"Regina said you had another idea?" he reminded her.

"Sort of. If I had this," Emma tapped the barrier between them, "to keep myself from jumping you right away, I thought we could figure this out. Together."

Hook considered her words. If he had to, he would break the spell but it would be his last resort. He'd schemed and plotted his way out of tight spots before, he could find another way out of this one.

"Together," he agreed, "Now, Regina said the potion was forcing intimacy. When you came to my chamber looking so very fetching in my coat, what exactly were you seeking?"

Emma looked up again and met his eyes. Hook smiled encouragingly at her. He could see her thinking, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she tried to fight the fever and remember.

"Aside from the obvious?" she frowned, and then it seemed to come to her, "I needed to see you. I felt like I had to see you. The coat worked, for a little bit, I took it back to my room and I put it on, and it was just so...you. It was like you were there, with me. Holding me. That's not something that I've..."

Her voice trailed off, but he could guess at what she was going to say. It had been awhile since she'd just been held, probably been a long time since she'd wanted anyone to hold her.

"Did it help?" Hook asked, "When we lay down on my bed and I held you in my arms, you said I gave you what you needed?"

Emma nodded, "I felt...content, I guess? Safe? It felt good."

It had felt so good, to hold her, to bury his nose in her hair and breathe in her scent, to share his bed with her, even if it had been chaste.

"Would that be enough now?" he asked.

Emma toyed with the hem of his shirt and he forced himself not to look, to keep his eyes on her face. After a moment she bit her lip and shook her head. He sighed and thought of the other time she had sought him out.

"And in the pantry? The game we played? What made you think of it?"

She brought her fingers to her lips and touched them, as if reliving the moment. He watched her movements, remembering the softness of those lips under his.

"I was following you around all day," she began, "and that was enough, at first, I just wanted to watch you. I felt like I was in high school, staring at the boy I had a crush on and just hoping that he'd look back at me."

"I was looking," he said, thinking of how carefully he had watched her, wondering what was going on in her head.

Emma rose up on her toes, pressing her hands against the barrier, staring at his mouth. He suspected that if she could, she'd be kissing him again.

"I wanted...in Neverland I kissed you partly to shut you up, but I just wanted to feel something more then how angry and scared I was about Henry, and I thought it would be nothing, just, you know, something quick to make me feel better, and to wipe that damn smug look off your face, but it turned out to be more than that, and I wanted to feel it again. I wanted to feel it with you," she paused, her head drooping slightly, breathing hard, he could see the sharp rise and fall of her chest.

Her voice went so quiet that he had to strain to hear her, "You make me _feel._ When I had to leave because of the curse I wanted to tell you, but what could I say? I wasn't even going to remember you, and it hurt, so much, that we weren't even going to get a chance to try."

It occurred to him that the intimacy she craved was not entirely physical. She had come to him seeking it, but amongst the attempted seduction in his coat and the stolen moments in the dark, Hook remembered her whispered wish to have missed him when she was gone, her admission that she had wanted to kiss him again after Neverland. She had been calmer after each confession, after sharing them with him. Regina had said the potion would make her want intimacy, would force it out of her, but with Emma the emotional kind was far more difficult. Would the release of it be enough to break the fever?

"Tell me, Emma," Hook urged, "Everything you've been keeping in, everything you want to say to me."

Her head was still down, and she let out a choked sob.

"Please," he implored, "Look at me."

After a long moment she raised her eyes to his and asked, "Why did you come find me?"

The answer to that was simple, "Because I was lost without you."

Her hand was still pressed against the barrier and her laid his own hand over it. Her gaze flickered over and then met his eyes again but she didn't speak. He would have to press, ask the questions that had been held in for far too long.

"Why did you drink the memory potion I gave you?

He had tried his best to convince her, to cut through the layers of suspicion and doubt that were wrapped around her, but until she'd actually downed the stuff he hadn't been sure she'd actually do it or pour it out into the street.

Emma answered, "Because if what you said was true, and that I had a family out there who loved me, I had to know."

"Is that all?" he prodded, not satisfied that she was telling the whole story, seeing the colour flush even deeper in her fever-reddened cheeks.

"No," she admitted, "The way you looked at me...I don't think a man has ever looked at me that way, and you looked so sad too, and I didn't even know you, but I didn't want to be the reason why you were sad, and if I had somehow forgotten you, I wanted to remember. I wanted to know why you looked at me like that. Like I was your whole world."

Emma swayed slightly and Hook tensed, wondering how she was even staying upright. But then, his Swan was a tough lass.

"Hook...Killian," she breathed.

"Yes sweetheart," he said, "I'm right here."

Her eyes were impossibly large, a rolling sea of emotion as she asked, "What do you want from me?"

"Oh Emma, don't you know by now?" his voice was shaking, he was shaking, "I want everything."

She pressed her forehead to the barrier and he mirrored her.

"What does everything mean to you, Hook?"

He took a deep breath and let it spill out, "I want to know every memory of all your days, every secret you keep buried inside. I want to make you laugh. I want to teach you to sail and set off around the world with you. I want you to look at me and only me and think of no other man. I want to take you to bed and feel every inch of you against me. I want to lose myself in you because you are my light and I don't want to be alone in the dark. I want _you_."

She fell to her knees with such suddenness that he couldn't even react at first.

"Emma?" he dropped down after her, fear squeezing his heart into a tight knot.

"You're not lying," she murmured, sounding incredulous. He could see a faint sheen on her brow that hadn't been there before and he felt a prickle of hope, that it was working and the fever was breaking.

Encouraged, he gestured to her, "Why are you wearing my shirt?" he asked.

She rubbed her fingers along the edge of the material where it was covering her right breast and he bit his lip at the sight.

"Because it feels like I'm wearing you," Emma sighed.

The groan that tore from his throat was answered with a shiver from her that made the thin material part even more.

"You can wear me any bloody time you like, darling," he growled, "Have you thought about it? You and me and how well we would fit together?"

"Yes," her voice had gone deeper too, and he could hear the longing in it. His insides clenched at the sound, his own blood grew hot and he could feel it rise in his face, a flush to match hers, and the near painful throb in his groin. She might be burning with fever, but he was on fire.

"I want it, I want to tear that shirt off your beautiful body and run my tongue over everything I spent a year dreaming about. Do you know how many times I woke up in the middle of the night with the taste of you in my mouth? I want to map every spot that makes you squirm and gasp, I want to feel your nails across my back and your teeth on my neck. Do you want that, Emma? Would you mark me as yours so I could wear your brand on my skin?"

She leaned sideways, her hands pressing against the floor as she shifted onto her hip. Beads of sweat were forming in the hollows of her collarbones, down the length of her sternum.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

"Tell me," he begged, "Tell me what you need from me, tell me what you want."

The words flew out of her, "I want to let you in, but I don't know how."

Hook sat back on his heels and spoke two words. A vivid blue flare rose up from the line on the floor and there was a sound like glass shattering. The protection spell was broken and there was nothing between them. Emma collapsed, falling onto her back and he rocketed himself forward, sliding his arm under her back and his hand under her head in one motion, rolling them so that his back was against the floor and she was on top of him. He pressed his hand against her forehead and it was warm to the touch but not burning. Emma fisted her hands in his shirt, shaking against him, and he felt the dampness on her skin as the fever released it's hold on her, sloughing off her in a wave of salt and sweat and tears.

"You already did it love," he said, rubbing a circle into her back, "You let me in."

_Please don't push me back out._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow**

Emma wasn't sure how long they'd been lying together on the floor, but it had definitely been a while.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," she said into Hook's shoulder, thinking of the hard planks under his back.

"I assure you I am quite content," he replied, drawing a lazy circle onto her back with his fingers.

_So was she,_ Emma thought, feeling the comforting solid warmth of his body under hers.

It was over, she was sure. Her head felt clear for the first time since the night of the ball, the potion must have worn off. The fever had been it's last hurrah, the final attempt to get her to submit, and it had almost worked. She had felt like she was going to jump right out of her skin, that she would go insane if she didn't give in to it, but Hook had managed to find another way. She had known he would, she had insisted as much to Regina, demanding that she cast the protection spell that would give him the time to do it. She had been reluctant, but she had finally given in.

_"You can't let it go on too long, Emma. I don't know had bad it will get, you could start having seizures, or worse."_

_Emma was resolute, "We've gotten this far, we can figure this out."_

_"Is it really such a bad thing? You can't tell me that you don't want to sleep with him, I'm not blind, you know. And there is absolutely no way that Hook does not want you. He practically reeks of it."_

_Regina looked up from the line she was drawing on the floor. Emma sighed, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her oversize sweater, feeling the cuffs of the shirt she was wearing under it, Hook's shirt. It rubbed against her skin, a poor substitute for the real thing, but it was all she'd allow herself._

_"Yeah," Emma said, "I know, but not like this. He'll think it's just because of the potion."_

_And he feels guilty enough as it is and I will not do this to him._

_Emma closed her eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness crash over her. When it passed she opened them again and saw Regina staring at her, eyes narrowed._

_"Are you talking about you or him?" Regina asked, putting her hands on her thighs and pushing herself back into a standing position. Emma looked away and didn't answer._

_"Last chance," Regina said._

_Emma met her gaze again and nodded. Regina waved her hand over the line, muttering an incantation, and Emma watched as a blue veil rose from the floor to the ceiling, flashing bright before fading away. She reached out and felt it, the barrier that would keep her from attacking him as soon as she saw him. She had left the great room earlier because of it, feeling the weight of his gaze on her, he'd been watching her all day and it was too much, the itch under her skin driving her mad. She burned with it, it had been simmering for days and she was boiling over._

_"Emma!" Regina's voice was sharp and Emma forced herself to focus, sensing that it was not the first time the other woman had said it._

_"I'll go get him," Regina said, and pointed at her, "But for the record, I think this is stupid."_

Emma frowned. Regina had said the spell would last for hours, but the fact that she was currently pillowed on top of Hook was evidence to the contrary. She tried to remember through the haze she had been feeling, recalling falling to the floor and then feeling him hovering over her, scooping her into his arms.

"How'd you get through the spell?" she asked.

"The Queen gave me the words to break it," he replied.

She was confused, "Wait, what?"

"She told me that I might need to get to you. I didn't understand what she meant at first, but when you told me she cast the spell, I realized she thought I would need a way to get through. A curse-breaker."

Emma did remember him saying something, but she hadn't made it out, everything had gone so fuzzy when the fever broke,"What was it?" she wondered.

"Knocking boots."

She let out an exasperated puff of air, "Knocking boots? Are you kidding me?"

"Just a nonsense phrase, like the key to a cipher."

"It's not a nonsense phrase, it's Regina's sick sense of humour. It's an expression, if you say two people are knocking boots, it means they're..." She let her voice trail off suggestively and she could practically feel him get it, his body tensed slightly under hers before relaxing again.

"Oh. If you would be so good as to prepare me a list of such expressions, I would appreciate it. I would not want to be caught unawares were you to offer to, ahem, knock boots with me."

"Yeah," Emma snorted, "You think everything I say is a come on anyway."

She felt a flash of annoyance at Regina, but it faded away quickly. She wasn't that surprised that Regina had left behind a trapdoor for Hook, and it had been a good idea. If Emma had known, she would have begged him to use it and he would have probably given in, and they'd be on the floor for another reason. And he would be filled with guilt and she'd be filled with anger, not at him, but at the whole situation.

"That was quite a risk you took," Hook said quietly.

Emma closed her eyes, "Not really. I knew you'd think of something."

Of course, that something had turned out to be a release if a different kind. Emma remembered what she had said, what he had said, the emotions pouring out of them like a breached dam, bottled up for too damn long and with the power to knock them off their feet and drown them. In many ways, sex would have been easier to deal with.

"Your faith in me is that strong?"

Hook sounded surprised, and she didn't really blame him. She did a decent job of keeping him at arm's length most of the time, answering his flirting with sarcasm and pretending she didn't catch the deeper meaning behind his words.

A kiss at her door in New York, _"I had hoped you felt as I did."_

Francis attempting to kiss her on the terrace the night of the ball, _"You will feel what I feel."_ She owed that bastard a severe beatdown.

Emma lifted up and looked at him. Hook had his arm behind his neck, propping his head up so he could look at her.

"Well, you haven't let me down yet," Emma said.

He stated at her, those bright blue eyes intent on her face, his own slightly guarded, "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired," Emma answered honestly, "Sweaty, gross, tired, cold and tired. Did I mention tired?"

"Cold?" he repeated. Emma nodded, she had barely anything on and the room wasn't very warm. In the grips of the fever it had felt like she'd been standing in a furnace, but since it broke she'd gradually begun to feel a chill.

Hook's arm tightened on her back and then he rolled her gently, setting her on the floor. Emma sat up while he stood and went over to the bed. He came back with a blanket and knelt down beside her, draping it over her shoulders.

"Do you want to stay here or go back to your chambers?" he asked.

She could probably fall asleep right there on the floor, but Emma thought longingly of her own bed, a huge four poster affair with a mattress that was the most comfortable thing she had ever slept on. Then she remembered the smaller bed in Hook's room, and the feeling of being held in his arms as she drifted off.

"My room," she said, not meeting his eyes.

Hook helped her to her feet and kept a steadying arm around her as they made their way through the dark and deserted hallways. They walked in silence, Emma felt like one giant, exposed nerve and she could feel it, tugging at the back of her mind, the urge to withdraw, to retreat, to pretend that the things she'd said had been nothing more than potion-induced ramblings. To harden her heart against him, and the words he'd offered up to her, his declaration that he wanted everything, all she had to give and more, and presenting himself to her in return. She could have it, she could have him, and she was terrified.

At her door she turned and leaned against the frame, the blanket slipping off her shoulders, while he looked at her uncertainly.

"Should I find Regina?" he asked.

Emma shook her head, "No. I'll talk to her in the morning, but I'm pretty sure it's over. The potion's worn off."

Even in the dark his eyes were so blue and she could lose herself in them so easily, "All right."

She didn't know what to say. She should thank him, but she'd done nothing but thank him all week and every time it had felt inadequate. She shuddered with disgust to think about what could have happened if it had been Francis who activated the potion without anyone finding out. He would have taken advantage and then some, and the thought made her sick.

Hook turned to leave and Emma caught his wrist. She wanted to say so much to him but the words were stuck in her throat. After everything that had happened, they couldn't go back to the holding pattern they'd been stuck in, but as she'd told him, she wanted to let him in but she didn't know how.

"I'm keeping the shirt," she blurted out, hoping he would understand.

"Oh?" he turned back to her.

"Yup. You're not getting it back, it's mine now."

He smiled, "As you wish. It does become you much better than me."

Hook lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it, not a courtly brush against her knuckles, but an open mouthed press against the inside of her wrist. She felt the briefest touch of his tongue on her skin, and then he withdrew, his arms going behind his back. He bent slightly at the waist, actually bowing to her, and then he was gone.

"Jesus," Emma muttered, closing the door. She made her way through the sitting room, letting the blanket fall to the floor along the way, and into the bedroom that was bigger than any apartment she'd ever lived in. "Fit for a Princess," her mother had said, and she'd meant it literally, which had wigged Emma out to no end.

Tonight she was too tired to think about it. She climbed into the large bed, still wearing Hook's shirt. It had been wrapped around her when she'd fallen asleep in his bed and she had worn it every night since. It had helped calm her down, and was the only thing that had kept her in her bed instead of sneaking back into his in the middle of the night. She supposed she didn't need it for that anymore.

_"So why are you still wearing it?"_ that little voice in the back of her head asked.

Emma told the voice to shut up, and closed her eyes.

...

...

...

"Knocking boots?!" Emma yelled.

"Well, did you?"

Regina pushed past Emma into the room, tossing her a package wrapped in a tea towel. Emma opened it and found a pastry. She was starving and she sunk her teeth into it, it was still warm, a savoury concoction of meat and spices inside the dough.

Emma sat down, swallowing her bite, and glared at Regina, "No."

"And yet he obviously broke the spell. Are you sure about that?" Regina said, sliding into the chair opposite Emma.

Emma intensified her glare, taking another bite. She hadn't gone down to breakfast, despite her hunger, but it wasn't because she was hiding in her room like a nervous teenager, not at all, "Yes, I'm sure. I think I would know, Regina, I had a fever, I wasn't drunk."

Regina tilted her head, "Then how?"

"Why do you want to know?" Emma asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Professional curiosity."

Emma dropped the towel on the table and sighed. She had a sense of déjà vu, they had sat at this table the night she had drunk the potion, when Regina had come to her room to give her more information about it, _"You probably don't want your mother to hear this part."_ And boy, she hadn't.

"We talked," Emma admitted, and at Regina's skeptical look added, "About us."

She twisted her hands in her lap, feeling the rough denim of her jeans. She'd washed and changed when she woke up, putting on her own clothes and folding Hook's shirt up carefully, stowing it away under her pillow.

"He told me how he felt about me...and I told him how I felt about him."

"Interesting," Regina tapped a finger against her lips, Emma could practically see the wheels turning in her head, "Usually when you give someone a love potion, they don't have feelings for you, that's kind of the point. It makes the drinker think they have feelings, but it's all surface infatuation. It can play havoc with your sex drive, and from what I heard it obviously did, but it can't really go deeper, because there would be nothing there. Unless you already have more."

Emma looked away from Regina's interested look, she really didn't want to be having this conversation with her. But the other woman wasn't deterred.

"You don't strike me as the gooey sentimental display of emotion type though, unlike certain parents of yours who shall remain nameless."

Emma stood up and moved a few steps away, turning her back to Regina, "It wasn't like that," she said. It hadn't been sentimental, it had been honest and raw and more than a little painful, "Why did it work?"

She turned around and faced Regina, who was looking at her with her best, "bitch please" face, which Emma had to admit was impressive.

Regina spoke with conviction, "Because it was real. The heart of magic has always been real, genuine emotion. The kind you can't fake, that no potion can truly replicate. Hate, anger, love, emotions are power."

Emma remembered the feeling, the swelling in her chest when she admitted that Hook affected her. He'd wormed his way in somehow, along with Henry and her parents, a cartoon villain turned into a real complicated man who made her feel things she had almost forgotten.

"It's over, right?" Emma asked, "I feel like it's worn off."

Regina produced a white crystal and held it out in her palm, "Well, let's see. Breathe on this. If you still have potion in your system it will change colour."

Emma leaned over Regina's hand and pursed her lips, blowing on the crystal like the candles on a birthday cake. The crystal glowed, but it stayed white.

"Looks like you're clear," Regina said.

Emma collapsed back into the chair, feeling relieved at the confirmation, "Thank you, for all your help, Regina, thank you."

Regina spread her hands open, "Well, what are friends for?"

Emma raised her eyebrows, "So, we're friends?"

"Stranger things have happened."

The woman had a point, Emma thought, as she sat in a princess's bedroom in an honest-to-God castle, where her parents, Prince Charming and Snow White lived.

"Like you and Hook," Regina continued, "Didn't see that one coming."

Neither did Emma.

"Do you know where he is?" Emma asked. As much as she wanted to keep hiding in her room, she was done pretending.

"Who am I, his secretary? No."

"Fine," Emma waved her hand, "I'm sure I can find him."

"In the mood for some boot-knocking, huh?" Regina inquired, "Well, I may not know where Hook is precisely, but I might have seen him heading down towards the lake."

Emma rolled her eyes at the boot-knocking comment, "You know I had to explain to him what that meant. You really are evil."

"I bring you food, I point you towards Captain Loverboy, and this is the thanks I get. You're welcome," the maybe-not-evil-but-certainly-sarcastic Queen said with a wink.

...

...

...

Emma walked the path to the lake, leaves and twigs crunching under her boots. She remembered how often she'd gone to the docks in Storybrooke to find him when they'd been fighting the Wicked Witch. There was water in his veins, but he hadn't even mentioned anything about sailing off, either in her world or here, and she knew the reason why.

_"I want to teach you to sail and set off around the world with you."_

He wouldn't go unless she went with him.

She went around the final bend in the path and the lake came into view, the light shining off the water and silhouetting the figure standing at the edge. It swung around at the sound of her footsteps and Emma came out from under the trees and into the light.

"Swan."

His voice was neutral but his face was anything but, scared and hesitant and everything that he shouldn't be, and she was going to change that.

Emma stopped a few feet away from him, "It's over. Regina confirmed it, no more potion."

"All right," he said again, as he had the night before.

She took a few steps forward, seeing him swallow hard at her approach. Her hand reached out, touching the bare skin where his shirt opened just above his heart. He was standing stock-still, hardly even breathing.

"Killian?"

"Yes?"

Emma looked right into his eyes, the blue of the sea, of sapphires and forget-me-nots, and she had forgotten, for a whole year she hadn't remembered his eyes, but she knew now she would never forget them again.

"Show me everything."

...

...

**Author: Don't worry, I'm not done! There will be smut in the next chapter, I promise. Took me a heck of a lot longer to get to it than I thought it would, but then I didn't expect this fic to go in the direction it did. Somehow I wound up with a lot of humorous angst, if that is a thing.**

**Everyone who has reviewed, thank you, it means so much! And all my followers and the people who have favourited, as well.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Tidal Wave**

Hook led her along the water's edge, away from the path that led back to the castle. They walked hand in hand and he kept rubbing his finger against her palm, a tiny caress that gave her shivers with each brush on her skin.

Another path that Emma hadn't seen before led away from the lake and he guided her up it, to a small stone cottage nearly hidden amongst overgrown grass and hanging trees. Hook went right for the door and pushed it open like it was his own house, and Emma followed him in, confused.

"Who lives here?" she asked.

"No one, anymore," he replied, scratching the back of his ear in what she recognized as a sign of his nervousness, "A fisherman at one point, I suppose, but when I found it, it was obviously long abandoned.

Emma looked around. They stood in a main room that was nearly bare, a chair by the fireplace, a table with a few books, and that was all. She looked back at Hook.

"It took several weeks to prepare for travelling to your realm. Your parents were quite generous with their hospitality during those weeks, but it grew to be a bit...much, at times."

Emma thought of her bedroom, filled with things she was kind of afraid to touch for fear of breaking them, and knew what he meant.

"I found this place one day, and with a bit of cleaning, it became something of a refuge."

Emma nodded, walking around the room, running her hand over the back of the chair. She could see him here, sitting by the fire on lonely nights, wondering if he was going to find her again.

There was a door in the wall opposite the fireplace, and Emma opened it, finding a small bedroom. There was a washstand with a porcelain basin and jug, a long narrow bed made up neatly, and a nightstand next to it. A small frame sat on the stand, angled towards the bed. Emma walked over and picked it up. Her own face looked back at her, a charcoal drawing in black and grey with green added to the eyes and pink on the lips. She looked up, and saw Hook standing in the doorway, watching her.

"Tink has some skill in drawing. She was kind enough to make that at my request."

Emma's breath caught in her throat and she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. She blinked frantically, willing them away.

The frame was placed back with care and then she was across the room, in his arms and kissing him, pouring everything she could into the press of her lips on his.

Hook sagged slightly against her and Emma tightened her grip, holding him up. She caught his bottom lip in her teeth, nibbling on it, and he groaned into her mouth, a glorious sound.

Emma pressed her hands against his shoulders, pushing the long coat off and letting it drop to the floor. Hook moved forward slightly and they stepped further into the room. He kicked the door shut with his foot, leaving his coat on the other side. She ran her hands down his arms, grasping his hand and hook, and pulled, intending to lead him to the bed.

He stopped, and Emma pulled back from his mouth, looking at his face. He was staring at her hand, wrapped around the metal at the end of his arm, a hint of sadness in his eyes. She wondered if the other women he had been with had shied away from it, either in fear or disgust, and reminded him of what he had lost. Emma couldn't bear it, if he somehow thought he wasn't a whole man, when he accomplished with one hand what most people were hard pressed to do with two.

"Hey," she said softly, "Remember you wanted a list of expressions like knocking boots? Well, I didn't write them all down but here's another one for you. Hooking up."

He smiled, looking up at her from under dark lashes, "You're making that up."

"Nope. It's quite common where I come from. We hooked up last night, hey, did you hook up with him?"

Emma pulled his arm around her waist and his forehead bumped hers, "Hey, Killian?"

"Yes, Emma?"

"Wanna hook up with me?"

He kissed her, hard, hot tongue invading her mouth and Emma felt his hand in her hair, holding the back of her head. She rolled her shoulders, quickly grabbing at the sleeve of her jacket behind her back and pulling it off, tossing the garment to the side. She wore a thin T-shirt underneath, and she pressed against his chest, feeling the heat of his body through the light cotton and the cool steel of the hook at the small of her back.

She curled her fingers in one of the clasps of his vest, pulling and shuffling backwards, closer to the bed. He followed for a step before pulling her back against him, his hand and his hook going to her hips, grinding his arousal against her.

Hook broke from her mouth, "Do you feel what you do to me, darling?"

She reached in between them, cupping him through his pants and feeling her own throb of need between her legs. Hook rocked against her hand, his lips finding her neck, hand reaching up and palming her breast.

Her T-shirt was hastily pulled over her head, his vest and shirt were discarded on the floor. They fell to the bed, Emma toed off her boots and slipped out of her jeans, while he unlaced his pants, shoving them down his hips. He wore nothing underneath, which didn't really surprise her. She supposed the options in the Enchanted Forest weren't really of the boxers or briefs variety.

Completely nude, Hook rolled on top of her, his erection pressing into her thigh. He twisted his hook loose from the brace and reached over her, laying it on the nightstand next to her portrait. He put his weight on the bad arm and ran his fingers along her bra, from the cup up to her shoulder, where he pulled the strap away and kissed the newly revealed skin. His tongue traced the line back down, shoulder to breast, and Emma shivered.

The shifted together, Emma lifting up and undoing the bra, Hook pulling it away and dropping it to the floor. He closed his mouth over a hard pink tip, and Emma's head fell back, her eyes closing and a soft sigh escaping her. His hand felt like it was everywhere, sliding across her hip and down her thigh, cupping her breast, trailing up her neck and his fingers pushing against her mouth. She sucked on them, swirling her tongue, and felt him press down, pushing his hardness firmly into her leg.

Emma sank her fingers into his hair, pulling him back up and kissing him again, letting her legs fall open. His hand swept down, tugging at her underwear, clearly trying to remove it, but Emma resisted, holding his head firmly in place and pressing kiss after kiss to his mouth.

"You are tormenting me, love," he muttered against her mouth.

"You ain't seen nothin yet," Emma whispered back. She pushed against his chest, making him roll onto his back while she climbed over him. Trailing hands and her mouth down the length of his body, feeling his muscles contract and quiver under her touch, Emma felt powerful and desired and she revelled in it.

When she closed her lips over him he gave a strangled cry and his hips pushed up. She held him down, licking and sucking, taking in as much as she could before letting him slide back out of her mouth, setting up a rhythm that he clearly enjoyed, based on the sounds coming out of his throat, each groan shooting straight through her, making her core ache. She pushed her underwear off as she worked on him, feeling herself getting slick and ready.

A firm grip circled her arm and pulled. Emma let him settle her onto her back and a leg was thrust in between hers, spreading her thighs open. Hook was panting for breath, blue eyes narrowed and intent on her face.

"If you are mine in this way then you are mine only, Emma," he said, "No other man may court you, I'll not share you with anyone. I don't care if the bloody emperor of the world shows up tomorrow, if you accept me now I will draw blade against any who approach you."

Well, that was a hell of a request to be exclusive, Emma thought. Normally she hated it when guys pulled the possessive bullshit, but she knew Hook was still angry with himself over Prince Fuckface, plus it was _him._ He wasn't any other guy.

"Does it go both ways?" Emma challenged, sliding her foot up his calf, shifting so that he came even closer to where she wanted him, "Do I need to warn off any girl who looks at you?"

He leaned down, his chest resting on her breasts, his hand braced against the mattress, next to her head.

"I pledge you my fidelity," he whispered, kissing her softly, "Any girl who looks at me will not find me looking back. I see only you."

"Okay then. I don't want anyone else, Killian. I want you."

Emma grasped his hips and pulled. His hardness found her entrance, and she felt him start to slide inside. He needed no further prompting from her, pushing in inch by inch, She felt herself stretch and contract around him, adjusting to his intrusion, the slight burn as her body hovered between acceptance and rejection. When she gave way, opening fully to him, her eyes fluttered shut as he buried himself to the hilt within her.

Hook started to move, a slow rolling of his hips. Emma grasped his shoulders, feeling the hard muscle under the skin, the faint trace of old scars. She wrapped her legs around him, as high on his waist as she could reach, feeling the pressure build inside her as his pace increased.

"So good," he said into her ear, nipping at the lobe with his teeth, "You feel so good."

Emma whimpered. He felt amazing, the scratch of his chest hair against her breasts, the way he fit perfectly between her legs, the sweet ache of each thrust into her body. She could feel the tension coiling, the need for release spurring her on to lift her hips with each slide of his. His groans intensified, he pushed into her harder, arm sliding under her knee and pushing it back, changing the angle, going even deeper inside.

His fingers found her most sensitive spot, rubbing and stroking while he stilled his momentum and leaned on his arm. Emma let herself fall, clinging tight to his neck as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. He plunged into her again, suddenly frantic, and it didn't take long for him to follow her over the edge, face pressed into her shoulder as he spilled into her.

He lay sprawled on top of her, Emma running her hand over the line of his shoulders and smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

"This can't possibly be comfortable for you," Hook said, and Emma laughed.

"Oh, I'm pretty comfortable," she replied.

He propped himself up and looked down at her, tracing the side of her face with a gentle touch. He looked satisfied and more than a little smug, and Emma would find it infuriating if she didn't know she had to have the exact same look on her face.

"You know," she said, trying to look stern, "You really can't pull a sword on every guy who tries to talk to me."

His eyebrows raised in challenge, "I most certainly can."

Emma poked him in the ribs, "I mean it! None of that caveman crap, Killian. No duels, or drag races, or any macho nonsense."

"Fine love," he huffed, "May I still scowl at them threateningly?"

"You can do that," she agreed, "it's not that scary, anyway."

"Not that...there are entire ports where the mere mention of my name sends all and sundry scurrying behind locked doors to hide, and the sight of my face makes them flee for the hills in terror. And you say I'm not that scary?"

He looked so affronted and Emma laughed harder, "You don't scare me."

At her words he was kissing her, and she returned it eagerly, still letting out the occasional chuckle against his lips. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed in bed with a man, when she had felt both passion and lighthearted fun.

They would up laying side by side in the narrow bed, faces almost touching.

"When did you first go out to sea?" Emma asked, thinking of their conversation in the pantry when he said he'd been on a ship at thirteen.

"A few months after my tenth birthday." he replied.

Their worlds were so different, she mused, thinking of fifth graders in New York, begging their parents for iPhones and grumbling about homework. How was it they were so similar inside?

"You miss it, don't you?"

He didn't answer for a long time, looking at her as his fingers danced up and down her side.

"Aye," he said, finally, "I do."

The silence stretched between them.

"You miss your world, don't you?" he asked her, but it was more a statement then a question.

Emma nodded. She did miss it, but she had made her choice, to follow her parents back to their home and live as a family, all of them, Henry, Regina, Neal, and the man lying before her, looking at her with love and understanding in his eyes. She may have pretended that he hadn't been a factor in her decision, but she had been lying to herself and she was done with that.

"Killian? I'd like to learn how to sail."

"Well, you're in luck then, because I know of a humble sailor who would be happy to teach you."

She could picture them out on the lake on a small boat, sail fluttering in the wind, Hook standing behind her at the helm, guiding her hand with his own. And perhaps one day, on a larger ship, exploring the world, the wind in their hair as they went beyond the horizon.

Hook leaned over and placed a kiss on her shoulder. She could feel him stirring to life again and she took him in her hand, watching as his head fell back and his eyes closed. She slid against him, anchoring her leg over his.

They came together again and sailed away.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish**

"Your Royal Highness Crown Prince Francis Felipe Fergus Frederich Fenton Fraser Fabian Flavio Ferdinand,"

David paused for breath,

"Of the Kingdom of the Everlasting Mountain, you have been found guilty of the crime of attempting to administer a magic potion to Her Royal Highness Princess Emma for the purpose of circumventing her will, and as such, you have been sentenced to six months in prison, after which you will be returned to your kingdom and forever banished from the kingdom of Her Majesty, Queen Snow White. If you set foot within the borders of this kingdom you face immediate arrest and returned imprisonment for trespassing."

David folded his arms over his chest and looked at Francis, "Is that clear?"

Francis no longer looked like a proud noble. He stood next to the wagon that would transport him to the royal prison, dressed in plain clothes and with his hands and feet shackled. His face was red and furious, and he glared at all who had assembled to witness his departure.

Hook stood ramrod straight next to Emma, hand on the hilt of his sword and a dark glare on his face. He saw Francis glance at them, taking in the way Emma's arm was threaded through his, and the Prince flushed even more.

"How do you not see it?" Francis demanded, looking back at David, "In all the tales about him, he is a villain. He will betray you and rob you blind the second your back is turned. Your daughter may be so foolish as to fall for his lies, but certainly you sir, as King, know better."

Emma stiffened, and Hook was sure that if he looked over at her he'd see the steam coming out of her ears. His fingers tightened, feeling the urge to pull the sword and press the point just under Francis's chin and make the bastard apologize for the insult.

"I know plenty, you idiot," David said, "I know how he helped find my grandson when he was kidnapped, how he saved my life, how he found my daughter when no one else could and brought her back to me and my wife, how he risked his life for all of us and helped defeat the Wicked Witch. You think he did all that for the chance to snatch a little gold?"

He took a step forward, grabbing Francis by the collar and pulling him forward, "And what did you just call my daughter?"

"David."

Charming turned at Emma's voice. She removed her arm from Hook's and threaded her hands together, cracking her knuckles, "I got this."

Hook looked at her and she flashed him a brilliant smile that made him go slightly weak in the knees. She looked back at Francis and the smile only grew bigger.

Hook felt his own smile break across his face. Francis was well and truly fucked now.

"You heard the lady," Hook said to David, "She's got this."

David released Francis and stepped away, nodding at Emma.

She advanced slowly, with a deliberate stride, and Francis's eyes went wide. He tried to step back but the leg irons prevented him from moving quickly enough to avoid her. Emma tilted her head at him.

"What did I say about insulting him in front of me?" she asked, her voice deceptively casual.

"Emma," Francis began, in a pleading tone.

"What. Did. I. Say?"

She punctuated each word with a sharp poke to Francis's chest that nearly sent him toppling over. Hook felt his smile grow wider. At one point in his life he would have thought it unmanly to stand back and let a woman defend his honour, but watching the fire that was Emma Swan burn the Prince, he felt a great swelling of masculine pride. She defended him not because he was incapable, but because she loved him, and any insult to him was an insult to her. She seemed to have completely skipped over Francis calling her a fool and was berating him for calling Hook a villain again.

"And that's what you don't understand," Emma finished, "The villain in this tale, Fuckface, is you."

She stepped back and raised her hand. An incantation fell from her lips, and Francis's face turned from red to purple. He collapsed on the ground, curling up into himself with a pained moan that almost elicited Hook's sympathy. Almost.

Emma turned, a smile on her face, and walked back over to where Hook stood with his eyebrows raised.

"That was...colourful," he said, "Care to enlighten us on what exactly you did?"

"Oh," Emma replied, blowing on her nails and buffing them on her jacket, "Regina taught me that. I'm not sure exactly what it does, but apparently it feels like he just got kicked in the balls. A few dozen times."

His wince was echoed by all the men present and Regina nearly fell over laughing.

"Well done! And the rest of you, remember that I showed her that."

"Remind me never to tick you off," David said, watching Francis roll around in the dirt, "Get him out of here."

The guards pulled a wheezing Francis to his feet. Emma called out, "If I ever hear about you trying to slip potion to another girl, I will cut them off, do you hear me?"

Francis was bundled into the wagon, tears streaming down his face. Hook slipped his arm around Emma's waist as they watched the guards shoulder their weapons and set off, escorting the prisoner to his new home. He was pleased to hear more than one refer to the Prince as Fuckface instead of Francis. Clearly his efforts to ensure the moniker stuck were working.

"You know," he said, as everyone started to head back to the castle, Regina still laughing and all the men giving her a wide berth, "Fuckface was right about one thing."

"Oh," Emma turned to him, "What's that?"

Hook turned as well so that they were facing each other. He put his other arm on her hip and pulled her close.

"The day he met you, he looked at you and said, she's the one."

Emma looked up at him, biting her lip. She shifted closer and her nose bumped his.

"Hmm, the one who just opened up a big can of whoop-ass on him. I am that."

Hook laughed, "Yes, my love. You are. And you are the one for me. The only one."

Her arm curled around his neck and in the second before their lips met she breathed out, "Good."

_End_

**That's all she wrote, folks! Thanks for sticking with me through this little idea I had, hope you all enjoyed! **

**Thank you for all your reviews, they really do make my day. **


End file.
